The sun glows on the horizon; the air feels bitter. Driving to the farm, my father explains a “good shot”. I listen to his every word, his voice deep and sharp as hints of excitement touch every other word. It’s my first time deer hunting, and I am finally old enough to shoot my own deer. My nerves rattle me, but my veins flow with adrenaline. My short brown hair tied back by a facemask, an overwhelming coat smothers me. My attire only consists of camo. The large boots I wear are too big and weigh me down. Halting to a stop, my dad gives me a smile.
Falling from the truck, I creak the door shut. My dad continues to load the gun, ignoring my obnoxious noise. Afterwards we head into the woods. Before making it to the entrance, my dad turns to me, “Stay behind me and stay quiet”. His words were simple, but they haunt my memory. Dragging my feet, we make it to the tree stand, where I stand silent. The height seemed endless, but I swallowed hard and started to climb.
In the stand I can see everything that the dense forest hid. Finding the bait pile I see all varieties of birds. My dad arrives at the top, and with a sigh he collapses. Gun in hand my father sets his position. Leaning close to me he whispers, “three  hours”. With a shake of my head  I continue my hunt. Every so often a break of a twig would send my dad and I into position, but nothing ever comes
After an hour of watching my back begins to ache. As the pain increased my posture decreased, sending me into a slump. As the brisk air shifted the trees, goose bumps formed under my large coat. My breath forms in the air as the sun begins to fall. The idea of staying any longer seems torturous.  Energy built over time had reached its maximum. Snap, the sound of a broken branch haunts the air. Silence, I know there is something coming.
My dad shifts his body weight inward, sliding the gun into my hands. “Behind the shoulder, squeeze” he croaks. Nerves high and my heart racing two beady eyes stare at me from behind a tree. Cautiously the deer makes an appearance. A decent deer, no more than a young buck. Lifting the gun to my shoulder I get set into place. The skittish deer takes one bite of the bait, then looks cautiously around, not knowing the danger he is in. Glazing through the scope I aim behind the shoulder. With all the excitement and jitters I pull the shot. Smoke coats the dense air.
Into the woods I hear snapping, and the breaking of limbs. My dad, shaking, gives me a reassuring hug knowing the shot pulled left. Five agonizing minutes drag by and we stumble out of the stand. Walking to the bait pile we find only drops of blood. The deer injured by the gut shot, could have run miles away before finally dying. We continue to track the few drops of blood.  Hearing a loud crack of branches, the deer leaps away still alive.
As dusk turns to dark visibility becomes impossible. We decide to leave and come back the next day. Unwilling to leave, I continue to look ignoring my dad’s comment. Holding onto my arm I face reality and shake my head okay. As I walk back to the car I only look back once, and continue to drag my feet.
The tickle of sunrays on my face awakens me. I leap out of bed, frantically grabbing my clothes. Diving down the stairs I find my dad and a tall boy named Matt. Matt is a lean boy, who wears blue jeans, camo, and frost bitten boots. There he and my dad compromise on a plan on how to find my deer. Grabbing my boots I stumble outside into the bitter air and climb into the frozen truck.
In the car my mind runs a million ways, thinking about the haunting night. The horrible shot, the young buck. All I wish for is to find my deer, to be able to go home with him as trophy. The car came to a jolting stop, bringing me into hunting mode. Dropping from the truck I stumble to my feet. Climbing through the trees we continue to search for my deer.
I am far behind Matt and my dad, following their every move. After an hour ticked away there is no success. Exhausted and drained I feel my hope decrease. Different thoughts are running through my head and I am distracted until all at once they stop. Lying face first I pull myself from the ground. The huge boots still stuck on the large rock. Wiping my hands on my coat I notice blood on my palms. Searching my body I find no cut, nor a blemish. Scanning the ground I find a small but useful pile of blood.
Jumping to my feet “hey!” I yell. “Hurry I found some more blood” I screech. Rushing to my side my dad arrives joined by Matt. Looking at the evidence my dad quickly picks up a trail. Stumbling through the tall grass my excitement grows, until I see a tail poke out from behind the grass. At that moment my despair grows into excitement. There we find him, my first deer.