{"sf1_id":2160866,"sf2_id":"JewlxXmO","title":"Acheronian [WIP]","author":"kaksilimni","words":843,"posted_at":"2024-08-07T10:03:46.000Z","tags":["Cervine","Deer","Male","Mammal","Post-Apocalyptic","Realistic","Red deer","apocalypse","survival","wasteland"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/2160866-acheronian-wip","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/JewlxXmO","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/5f/97/5f97285f-2959-48eb-b59a-3f77670b2d65","description":"But of course a deer is reluctant to act.","content":"The idle chirring of unseen insects, likely seasonal cicadas of some variant,  \nhummed droningly against a seemingly innocuous monotonously yellow and green  \nbackdrop.\u0026nbsp; Unshaken, or more appropriately, wholly unaware, of the bleak  \ncircumstances the world around them finds themselves in, spared the desperation  \nof a ruined existence.  \n  \nA stretch of tall grass near the road wavered slightly, catching a mild  \nupdraught of the stale breeze. They wobbled lazily, almost responding in turn to  \nthe heat beating down from the unrelenting sun above.  \n  \nAgain, movement in the grass, but this time the wind was still.\u0026nbsp; The motion was  \nsubtle; careful, even.\u0026nbsp; The faint, obscured outline weaved through the reedy  \nveil, taking slow and calculated steps forward.\u0026nbsp; Mindful, though, to not  \ntrespass too closely near the edge, where the concealment would give way.  \n  \nA small sound abruptly ensued; a short and discreet waft from the hidden figure:  \na sneeze of all things sounded out of the otherwise unassuming environs.  \n  \n\"Fucking dammit,\" an irritated voice sounded out.\u0026nbsp; The volume was mellow, spoken  \nunder his own voice, but possibly audible to anyone nearby.  \n  \nBut there was no one.  \n  \nThe deer shook his head, annoyed at the failings of his own body.\u0026nbsp; Allergic to  \ngrass?\u0026nbsp; A pettier thing couldn't be imagined.\u0026nbsp; He shook his head, bringing with  \nit the grace in shame of the unseemly large antlers he bore upon his visage  \nalong with it.\u0026nbsp; Those things were quite a sight, in different circumstances, but  \nencumbering in a situation like this.  \n  \nThere were no threats;\u0026nbsp; the ever so cautious creature was safe, for now.\u0026nbsp; What  \nan untimely gratification, thinking that the next few precious moments could be  \nsavoured as the opposite of a guaranteed threat.  \n  \nHe grunted self-consciously to himself, the burden of both being present in this  \nharrowing scenario along with the obnoxious chafe of the the unwieldy rucksack  \nupon his back doubling up on him.\u0026nbsp; The deer had never been one of great physical  \nendurance, much to his dismay.  \n  \nNot to let the small trifles of life bog him down, he shook his head derisively,  \nbringing forth the sway of his elegant, yet sombre outline.\u0026nbsp; \"Focus,\" he thought  \nto himself, making an attempt to fulfil some sense of determination.\u0026nbsp; This was  \ndespite the fact there was an open wound upon the bridge of his snout, provoking  \na mild soreness throughout his being.  \n  \n\"The flesh is weak,\" the deer resounded.\u0026nbsp; \"The flesh is weak.\"\u0026nbsp; Numerous pangs  \nof agony burned his core, whether the source physical or mental.\u0026nbsp; These setbacks  \nwere a contrivance, objects of contempt.\u0026nbsp; It was clear he was angrier than hell  \nat his excuse for a physique, a rage that was converted into resolve through  \nsheer disbelief at this point.  \n  \nDespite the introspection, the setting remained intact.\u0026nbsp; The intent was  \nsimilarly clear:\u0026nbsp; open the boot of the car, check for resources.\u0026nbsp; How could  \nanything be simpler?  \n  \nA bead of sweat ran down the deer's forehead, hanging for a brief moment along  \nthe edge of his chin.  \n  \n\"Why am I afraid?\"  \n  \nThe gnawing sense of disgust flowed shortly through his aching frame. \"But of  \ncourse a deer is reluctant to act,\" his thoughts coursed aggressively.  \n\"Fucking rubbish.\"  \n  \nHe moved almost in sync with an internal pulse, ignoring the impulses from his  \nunfettered, yet dense feral mind.\u0026nbsp; It was an object of perpetual torture,  \nconstantly fighting off the impetuous narrative the darkest reaches of his  \nbrain would populate without permission.  \n  \nChecking left, right, and left again, the deer swiftly positioned himself behind  \na nearby vehicle.\u0026nbsp; Long legs gave way to long, quiet strides--one after another  \nuntil their destination had been reached.\u0026nbsp; It was an older machine that had  \nobviously seen better days (the vehicle, that is), one that happened to have a  \nbumper sticker reading \"Carbon Tax Me,\" a statement meant for a distant era.  \nThe car itself hadn't aged well, but had somehow avoided being vandalised as of  \nyet.  \n  \nHe sighed deeply, his thin chest rising and falling in a despondent, erratic  \nrhythm.\u0026nbsp; What had the world been so pointlessly occupied with to generate such a  \nstupid remark?\u0026nbsp; The deer would never fully know, honestly, and the less time he  \nspent worrying about it, the better.  \n  \nA quick flick of the wrist produced a rugged knife from his hip, deliberately  \npoised to be dispensed at a moment's notice.\u0026nbsp; Another jerk of the neck side to  \nside, just in case, before he began his entry into the car's trunk.\u0026nbsp; As he  \nnimbly fumbled with wedging the blade between the metallic seam, his thoughts  \nbegan wandering again.  \n  \nAn indiscriminately random thought crossed his mind, stroking his already  \npersistent anxiety.\u0026nbsp; \"The fuck?\"\u0026nbsp; The deer was possibly getting more exhausted  \nthan he was allowing himself to admit.\u0026nbsp; \"Focus.\"  \n  \nBlurring began to fill his peripheral vision, accompanied by a swelling ringing  \nthat began washing into his usually acute hearing.\u0026nbsp; His mismatched eyes slightly  \ndefocused, an opaque glaze invading the scene in front of him.  \n  \n\"Shit. Shit, shit shit.\" Whatever this was had been happening recently, often at  \nthe worst possible time.  \n  \nAs fast at it had begun, the episodic symptoms ceased."}