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Description
"Are you sure it's not too risky for us to be here, Ike? We both know this forest is off limits for hunting. We could be in big trouble if we get caught."

"That's IF we get caught, Jake. I know what we're doing. Nobody's gonna patrol the forest at this time of day. By the time anyone finds out we were here, we'll be long gone."

At the west edge of a large forest, a small hunting party of two was getting their supplies out of their truck. Jake and Ichabod lived for hunting game; small or large, if it could be hunted, they'd hunt it.

"So what's the plan, Ike? One good catch and we go home?"

"Pretty much, Jake. Something that'll look good in our trophy room. We go in, we shoot something, we put it on our truck, we leave. It'll take an hour, tops."

----

Deep in the forest, the two hunters hid in the bushes, waiting for some suitable quarry to show up. Ichabod and Jake were almost invisible in their forest camouflage; they'd even rubbed themselves down with mud to hide their scent.

"Jake! 3 o'clock!" Ichabod suddenly whispered, and Jake turned his head. A picturesque white-tailed deer with magnificent antlers had just wandered into view, nibbling on the grass.

"It's perfect, Ike," Jake whispered back as he admired the creature. "I'll shoot it while you keep watch."

"Roger that."

Ichabod turned his back on the deer, glancing through the forest for any signs of trouble, while Jake took up his hunting rifle and ever-so-carefully poked the barrel out of the bushes, taking aim.

The deer turned its head and spotted the danger, but it was a fraction of a second too late. No dramatic gunshot rang out, the silencer on Jake's hunting rifle ensuring that they wouldn't attract any unwanted attention, but a second later the deer dropped dead in the grass.

Resisting the urge to cry out in victory, Jake and Ichabod instead shared a quick fist bump before leaving the bushes to collect their prize.

----

Miles and miles away from the forest, the two hunters carefully unfastened the dead deer from the truck and took it inside their lodge. It had taken the two of them combined to haul the deer back to their truck, after which they had hitched it up and made a quick getaway, pausing only to clean up some of the evidence of their illegal hunting job.

"Finally, we're home! Let's gut this thing before it gets too stinky," Ichabod remarked.

Together, Ichabod and Jake hauled the deer inside, where they got to work preparing the deer for display in their trophy room. With all the care of a surgeon operating on a patient, they cut its body open, removed its organs, patched it up so it looked presentable, and finally stuffed it for display.

Finally, the deer stood in a proud pose on a stand in one corner of the duo's trophy room. Jake and Ichabod looked just as proud as they admired their handiwork.

"I'd call that one successful hunt, Jake."

"You can say that agai-- hey, what's this?"

Jake leaned forwards and picked something off one of the deer's antlers. For some reason, there had been a little shred of purple fabric stuck there; neither hunter could say what it had been part of.

"How do you suppose this got here, Ike?"

"Dunno, Jake. Maybe someone lost their handkerchief in the forest, and the deer scooped it up by accident?"

"Eh, it doesn't matter," Jake replied, tossing the purple shred in a trash can. "The deer's ours now, Ike. We've earned ourselves some relaxation."

"I agree, Jake. Up for an afternoon on the couch with a six-pack of beer and a country radio station?"

"I couldn't imagine a better way to spend it myself, Ike."

Description
"Are you sure it's not too risky for us to be here, Ike? We both know this forest is off limits for hunting. We could be in big trouble if we get caught."

"That's IF we get caught, Jake. I know what we're doing. Nobody's gonna patrol the forest at this time of day. By the time anyone finds out we were here, we'll be long gone."

At the west edge of a large forest, a small hunting party of two was getting their supplies out of their truck. Jake and Ichabod lived for hunting game; small or large, if it could be hunted, they'd hunt it.

"So what's the plan, Ike? One good catch and we go home?"

"Pretty much, Jake. Something that'll look good in our trophy room. We go in, we shoot something, we put it on our truck, we leave. It'll take an hour, tops."

----

Deep in the forest, the two hunters hid in the bushes, waiting for some suitable quarry to show up. Ichabod and Jake were almost invisible in their forest camouflage; they'd even rubbed themselves down with mud to hide their scent.

"Jake! 3 o'clock!" Ichabod suddenly whispered, and Jake turned his head. A picturesque white-tailed deer with magnificent antlers had just wandered into view, nibbling on the grass.

"It's perfect, Ike," Jake whispered back as he admired the creature. "I'll shoot it while you keep watch."

"Roger that."

Ichabod turned his back on the deer, glancing through the forest for any signs of trouble, while Jake took up his hunting rifle and ever-so-carefully poked the barrel out of the bushes, taking aim.

The deer turned its head and spotted the danger, but it was a fraction of a second too late. No dramatic gunshot rang out, the silencer on Jake's hunting rifle ensuring that they wouldn't attract any unwanted attention, but a second later the deer dropped dead in the grass.

Resisting the urge to cry out in victory, Jake and Ichabod instead shared a quick fist bump before leaving the bushes to collect their prize.

----

Miles and miles away from the forest, the two hunters carefully unfastened the dead deer from the truck and took it inside their lodge. It had taken the two of them combined to haul the deer back to their truck, after which they had hitched it up and made a quick getaway, pausing only to clean up some of the evidence of their illegal hunting job.

"Finally, we're home! Let's gut this thing before it gets too stinky," Ichabod remarked.

Together, Ichabod and Jake hauled the deer inside, where they got to work preparing the deer for display in their trophy room. With all the care of a surgeon operating on a patient, they cut its body open, removed its organs, patched it up so it looked presentable, and finally stuffed it for display.

Finally, the deer stood in a proud pose on a stand in one corner of the duo's trophy room. Jake and Ichabod looked just as proud as they admired their handiwork.

"I'd call that one successful hunt, Jake."

"You can say that agai-- hey, what's this?"

Jake leaned forwards and picked something off one of the deer's antlers. For some reason, there had been a little shred of purple fabric stuck there; neither hunter could say what it had been part of.

"How do you suppose this got here, Ike?"

"Dunno, Jake. Maybe someone lost their handkerchief in the forest, and the deer scooped it up by accident?"

"Eh, it doesn't matter," Jake replied, tossing the purple shred in a trash can. "The deer's ours now, Ike. We've earned ourselves some relaxation."

"I agree, Jake. Up for an afternoon on the couch with a six-pack of beer and a country radio station?"

"I couldn't imagine a better way to spend it myself, Ike."