I wasn’t afraid to turn my back
The cuts were healing
The scars disappearing
The tears no more

But she stabbed me in the back
She made the cuts bleed afresh
The scars were cut deeper by her
The tears renewed
Again

            The stiff, northern breeze pushed the strong scent of deer up into the nostrils of the crouching beast. His prey was so close; so unsuspecting; so perfect. The grass moved only slightly as the predator pushed his nose through. The wind was shifting; blowing from the northwest now. He lay frozen with anticipation as the head of his prey swung around and held, suspended in air, with wild eyes searching for the figure that lay hidden in the spring grass.