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Joan Deer By Godel Fishbreath

(suggested professional use: Chapters 1,2,4 and 8, but take what you want and need)

Chapter one, At her high school:

"So class, why do we have herbivores, omnivores and carnivores in the same school?", Mz. Huckel said. Joan Deer was not participating as much as she usually did.

"So that the meat eaters can be socialized, so that the cost of educating everyone is lower, so that the leaf eaters can get friendship and don't-eat-me points." said Billy Goose.

A student entered with a note, caught Mz. Huckel's eye, and passed the note to her. She checked the name and passed the note to Joan. It was a pass to the herbivore's counselor. Joan got up and left.

"It happens to us all." Mark Goatface said.

"Why do we allow carnivores to live? Why her? Why me?" Joan said, her face tear streamed.

Mark blundered and came out with the standard memorized reply, "To reduce competition, to weed out the sick and ..."

"Mom was not sick, she might not have been the most athletic, but she was our shining star, our creative artist, she was going to be great. And now she is meat. Damn Carnivores. Blood thirsty, uncaring, uncivilized murderers. Pulling her down, killing her." Joan sobbed.

The session ran its course, and would have been successful over a month's or so's course of days, if lunch had not happened.

It had been something of an advantage to be near the wolf boy pack's table at lunch. If you know them and they knew you, they were not supposed to hunt you. Nor any service people, nor a couple of other exceptions. It was generally enough to put up with the smells of their food. An artist like her mother had been was not one of the exceptions. Still, generally, people did not hunt people that they knew. The hunting corporation featured commuters from other towns. And the 'help wolves socialize' thing was working, they would actually save a life if they could.

Joan had put her head down on her crossed arms, her lunch of spinach and peppers pushed away in front of her, and tears brimmed her eyes. Her friends hugged her, trying to comfort.

Michael was tall and well built. He was chatting with his pack, and had gotten enthusiastically loud without knowing it.

"Yeah, Dad got a bonus, and we celebrated last night. We bought a whole doe from the store, and had a feast. We ate until stuffed and we still had more. This is part of her." He waved a hunk of meat.

On that announcement, Joan looked like someone had clubbed her. She came to an upright position, mouth open, eyes shocked. One hard breath later she ran from the room, followed by her friends. Michael noticed that something was happening, but was still too full of himself to notice anything other than his friends in the busy lunch room.

Her friends gathered around, and hugged her, and the 'the herd gathers' feeling helped. She was still sobbing deeply. His remarks, so causal, so cruel, had cut her. That doe could have been her mother. It might be her mother. She had been keeping the loss away from herself emotionally, and this pressed it close. She was an orphan as of the day before yesterday.

"She did it for me." Joan said.

"Nonsense, you were not anywhere near there. There was nothing you could have done." said Laura Pronghorn, still hugging Joan.

"I was supposed to be there for her, that's why I trained."

"You also have to be here. The herd will protect." said Laura.

"Like they did. Likely just scattered. My herd. I can't trust my herd.", sobbing.

"They did the best that they could" said Laura, "Do you know how she died?"

"They said it was wolves. God I hate them. I miss her so." Her face showed her pain.

Later she got a pass herself and went to see Mark.

"I want to challenge that bastard dog Michael." She described the lunch room scene.

"You know the rules, the school can not support that. I will send for him. We need to have you two talk."

"I don't care anymore, I just want him to feel pain. My pain. The pain I will give him."

"We have ways, rules, rituals. You know them. Just follow them, it will be for the best in the long run."

A pass and a while later Michael appeared, very puzzled. He was not normally called into the herbivore's counselor's office.

Mark said, "Michael, your remarks "

Joan cut him off, "have hurt me and insulted my mother."

Michael still looked confused. "What remarks?"

"When you bragged about eating my mother at lunch today."

"What? When did I say that? Oh, the doe. Oh my goodness. Oh fuck. I am sorry for any remarks said, and did not mean any ill will towards you". Some of the rote phrases of socialization training came to him. Along with some belated thinking. "Wait, you just lost your mother? I'm sorry, I did not know."

Joan was still off script. "Why we let you filthy killers live I will never know. I'm going to get you. You will feel my pain."

"Jooaan! Calm down. Now!" said Mark.

Michael was still trying to soothe and salvage, "I humbly beg your pardon for my transgression."

Mark said, "Joan, he said that he is sorry for what he said. It was a stupid remark. Let it go."

"Mark, I do not care if I live. He's going down."

"Now, Joan, we can not have that here.". Mark said.

Visions of his lunch time behavior flashed before Micheal's eyes. He face-palmed and winced, exchanging a side glance with Mark. And then looking at Joan, caught her eye, and tilting his head sideways and a bit away from her, bared his neck.

She ignored the gesture. It was not her species way, though she had been taught what it meant. "Michael, the next time we meet, I'll get you. You will know what it is to be hunted."

Michael, still standing, pressed his lips together, silent.

"Joan, that was uncalled for. Apologize to Michael."

"No, Mark, he should feel the misery that his people cause."

"You will apologize or be suspended."

Joan said, "Michael, I am sorry for my remarks." But her lip twitched, as though to bare fangs she did not have.

Mark watching, said, "A sincere apology, Joan."

"Yes, sir.", Joan said, "Michael, I'm sorry."

Mark said, "Are you both satisfied?"

Michael was very uneasy. But if he left here with a protective escort, he would never live it down. He could be pack alpha someday, of the local pack, not of just the school crowd. He had to take this. So he nodded.

Joan nodded.

"Ok, then back to class."

After school the pack split up to go to their homes. Michael had talked the situation over with Lewis, his second in command and best friend. They went home together. At the edge of the school grounds a group of mixed species students gathered. Michael and Lewis started to go the long way around, but the group shifted. As they got closer the group opened up. Joan was in the center. She had changed her clothes. She was wearing heavy jeans and a canvas shirt, recalling a gei in construction, but with a Hawaiian style floral print. She had on sneakers, and lacked jewelery and other decoration. Her head hair was tied back. She was not wearing her backpack.

Lewis hit the button on his cell phone, sending a preplanned text to the pack. But they were distant.

Someone started chanting "Fight! Fight!". Joan waved him quiet. A few started recording the scene, and that spread.

"Michael, you bastard, you rotten dog, I challenge you."

"Joan, I said I was sorry. What else do you want?" Maybe if he convinced the crowd that he was the victim, he could pass. He did not think that would be likely. But even then, the wolf pack was about prestige, pride, and place. He could not discount himself, as leader it would discount his pack. He could apologize.

"I want you as dead as my mother."

"I'm sorry about your mother. I was not the one that brought her down."

"You fed on that doe, you fed on her death. Eat death now."

Michael continued, "We are not licensed to kill, and you certainly are not. And there are witnesses, you are not doing this in self defense."

"I don't care. You are going down."

Lewis spoke up, "You will fight us both?" He was at Micheal's side.

"I have my friends too." Two deer came from the back of the crowd. Three to two now.

Some of the crowd looked worried. In a general melay others have been hurt.

Lewis looked at Michael. Plan B had been to call the cops. But the hit in school social ranking made them hesitate.

Michael had some responsibilities. "You want a fight, you got one. But a leader's fight, just you and me."

"I just want you."

Lewis looked at the others, and started a "Form the circle" call.

Michael was still adjusting to having to fight, and this was going to be no rules at all. The situation was against the heavy training that the school had given him. He had day dreamed about a path to pack alpha, but killing someone he knew was against all he knew. He was having to adjust mentally, emotionally, physically to the shifted rules. And Joan did not seem to care for any rules at all.

Joan was grinning fiercely. She had given up on her life, and would take what came. This was a new freedom, free from fear, free from consequences, free to kill and die. She settled into the stance that her sensai had taught her. The circle widened away from her.

Michael noted the stance. A Hoof Kata that he had not seen before. Hoofdo was a distance form, most Fangdo Kata were done at grappling range. His own training was more strength, hunting, pack fight and only some martial arts. He was feeling more uneasy, less sure. The rules for prey was to get them to run. She was not running.

"Go!", Lewis started the match.

Her first attack was beautiful, and coordinated. He blocked the first two blows but tried to duck the third. She was smaller and her high kick hit his ducking shoulder hard. He did not allow her to see how much that hurt. He had not trained against attack combos of three, just two. He fought his tail to a confident position, it wanted to tuck under. It might mean that his attacks would not land, that he would die here.

Maybe pack fight stuff would help. And she was looking very sure of herself. So pack taunts? Modified? He knew from the lunch room that she was vulnerable this way. They would not be here if she was not sensitive. And the pack taunt training had desensitized him somewhat.

"I ate the nipples that nursed you, I ate the womb that bore you, I ate the tongue that praised you" said Mark. Not strictly true, but what is truth in taunts? "They tasted good."

"I ripped the arms that held you, I ..." Mark ran out of imagination.

And Joan was moving in, her form messed up in anger. Mark backed off, trying to circle to get behind her. She kept her front to him.

"Bitch fed cub, you pack zeta, you least of the litter, you whining dog, you will die. You will feel my pain all your short life." Joan did not have the exact words, but got her point across. But her taunts rolled off him, old stuff that he knew either for a lie, or for an accepted truth. Michael grinned, baring his teeth. They were still circling. Joan still had her grin, but it did not look as fierce on her fang-less face. It was her eyes that scared Michael, still mostly confident and uncaring.

"The greatest thing your mother ever did was to be my dinner. She liked peppers, didn't she?"

The last was a shot in the dark, many of the deer liked peppers, and the gamy taste of last nights dinner had included a hint of peppers. "Her greatest creation was her taste. And you will be a piece of meat like her." Joan looked horrified, the shot had hit.

"I fucked your mother before I ate her!" And this, a later review showed, was the turning point of the match. Perhaps if she had laughed or giggled at a person so desperate that they fuck a corpse that would later be dinner, she could have regained composure, and kicked his ass or even just called the whole thing off. At her best, she had the skill. But she visualized her dead mother's body and took the lie as he had intended, as the nastiest, cruelest, most hateful attack he could make, on top of his other words, and didn't take it as just a really stupid last ditch remark. And reacting to that...

She flung her self at him, pounding him hard, in multiple blows that made up in savagery what they had lost in art. He kept his cool, evaded this onslaught, and he went for her throat, fending off two final defensive blows and taking the third. He caught her throat and clamped down. She hammered his gut at first with shredded art, then flailing, then hit lower, then kicked. The second kick connected and he spun away gasping, as did she. Her neck was bleeding where he had torn it.

Again, he did not let her see how much he was hurting. He really did not know the extent of his injuries, his blood was up. He did not notice the blood leaking from below his tail. And he had pain training, he expected some pain in battle.

Once he regained his breath he attacked, feinting high, blocking, lunging mouth open toward her forward leg. His fangs grabbed, he tried to jerk back and tear but her stance and clothing minimized damage from such an attack. He got cloth, fur, skin, and blood. She beat on his back with her fists. He bit and tore the same target repeatedly until he bit bone. She kneed him in his shoulder with her other leg. Then he changed the angle of his face and bit upward into her gut. He evaded her clothes and got much more this time. And still he bit and tore. She had stopped responding when he passed out.

Someone in the crowd circle had called 911, and the ambulances were rolling. But the fight had been fast, and the damage great. Both were taken to a hospital, but Joan died on the way.

Chapter 2, The official response.

The video of the meeting in Mark's office was reviewed. Mark was second guessed, criticized, reprimanded. The school communication and video tape systems were also processed, criticized. The various videos from the crowd were noted, mostly after they had been posted. The police and ambulance had arrived, but not in time to stop the fight. Micheal's parents and Joan's herd separately reviewed the record. Mark, in anger over his efforts being derided, compiled a collection of the videos, including the earlier including the office and earlier lunchroom footage, and let it go anonymously to the net. It went viral.

Chapter 3, Lewis and dad

That night Lewis, told his story to his Dad after dinner.

"If it wasn't for Michael's victory, I could be looking forward to a hoof coming down on my exposed neck. But now I have Michael's slot for future pack-alpha. It is so disquieting. I owe Micheal what I can never repay. Just everything. He was our star. He fell and I rose." He continued, "Oh, and Dad, I really need martial arts classes."

"It is only what the prey go through all the time. If Joan had turned the tables on us, we would have had to take it. We would likely have offered her pack-alpha position before or after your death, just to stop her from taking some slight as offense and killing all the other wolves in the school. And if she knew her history, she would have declined, allowing her to continue. I'm glad it turned out this way, but yes, we need to get our people up on the martial arts ladder, quickly if possible. Would you have died?"

"If Joan could take Michael, she could have taken anyone. I saw that fight, she was better then Michael, she was their star. As school pack second, I might have had to demonstrate that she would challenge and kill even when a total surrender was given. Since she had a thing against us wolves, she would not have accepted my surrender, and if not stopped, would have killed me. After which all the wolves would pull their kids out of school in protest. If she had not started this, the deer would be doing something similar as protest. "

"Dad you're a company wolf, what do you do when they beg for mercy?

"I carry a bottle of ether. Why do you want to know?"

"I am getting a prey's view of things. If Joan had won, and I begged her for mercy, I would have gotten a traditional shot of ether?"

"Actually the deer tend to favor a kick to the skull or the back of the neck. If you ask, you are expected to hold still for it, so as to not spoil their aim."

"And Lewis, it is actually worse. We get training, don't eat friends, don't do this or that. They only pick up on this to the extent that they are in the same classroom with us. Socialization training flows both ways, just not as strongly. So we keep the rules, and they have some vague idea of them.

Lewis said, "I still can not get over it. All that just for a unfortunate remark."

"By the way, Dad, what would have happened to Michael's body?"

"While the saying is 'nobody is wasted', as a pred he was high up on the food chain. Unless the deer insisted, he would have been shallowly buried, and flowers and a fruit tree planted to feed on him. If they insisted, he would have been sold, likely to cats. Or maybe raccoons."

"Well he does not seem to have much of a future now. I seem to have taken it."

"Well, yes, the 'rewards for the uninvolved' part of that saying. "

Lewis's dad continued, "The company has bent some rules in the past. If you fear someone, just ask. You will never need know who takes them down."

"Dad! That's murder! If I start to target people I know, it is like I personally killed them."

"And in the end, do you think it makes that much difference? The people I have taken down this week are just as dead."

"But Dad, you did not know them. Which rules out vengeance, robbery, and a host of other bad motives. It makes death more general."

"Yes son, that that is the theory. But if you ever need help, just ask.

And I'm also beginning to think it is past time for you to make your first kill. "

Lewis's dad continued, "Getting back to your breeding questions, the company wolves only use pack-alpha rules during peaceful times. But always we use what we call Hero rules. We recognize heroes, and allow the ladies to select from them. And give them a pension. Michael will be signed up with the company when he can consent.

In addition, if you make pack-alpha, you can let Michael mate. It is your prerogative."

Lewis's father continued to muse. "They call her WolfKiller. And if she had kept her cool, she would have earned it. Prey have been know to raise up champions. The company discourages this. The whole local company force turns out to take down a champion. And the usual champion title within the company is 'PackKiller'. There have been a few with the title CompanyKiller. The whole state will show up for that. And to further discourage this, we generally hunt the champion's species especially hard for a while afterwards. But we are all prey to someone. You are likely to fall to a prey champion, such is likely your end, and it will likely be mine."

"Anyway we use the hero system. Most of our fighters are male, we need the ladies to raise up the pups. A hero's pups are always welcome. If, well actually when, I fail to come home, and your mother takes another hero, honor her and his pups. If your mother is single again, Michael or some other hero will be in the line. I suspect she would not pick your friend, as that could be awkward.

We have had a few really memorable PackKillers.

One ram had a necklace of ears, He was really scary. 3 wolf and 2 cat. With thirty and fifteen rings in the ears. He took down half the local company before he died.

There was this bunny with a sword. His story is used as an example. He ended up with 5 pred heads attached to his body, severed heads, still on bite and hold, the bodies below, separate, quiet. Just cause you are dead or dying does not mean you can not bite and hold. The brain is connected to the jaw even if all else is gone.

There was another bunny with her litter. When she got down to her last three kits, she stopped being distracted. We got the kits, and her eventually, but she killed four of us before she died.

The last time we attacked a group of pack-killers I got lucky, We drew papers to see who would be first. I drew the second wave. The bodies of the first wave made the footing difficult, But we brought them down, though I had to take immune-suppressants for the body parts I had replaced. They were from the first wave, from a friend of mind. Now that we can regrow parts from skin cells, I have got off those drugs. Though it is a bit sad: a memorial service for the parts donors that once was traditional is now a faded tradition.

Be kind, son, to the hunting cats. It takes a mix of them and us to bring down a champion easily. The champion will need different techniques to handle each, and it sometimes confuses them. We might be able to get by on blood and rice, but the cats need the meat. So the company is more for them, even if the current CEO is one of us."

"Dad, what do you do if you come across a friend when you are with the pack?"

"We are supposed to call 'Friend' and let them go. Generally they call 'Friend' anytime their case is otherwise hopeless. If the hunting has been bad, and they are just an acquaintance, and they have not seen us, we might slip away and let the pack take care of them. For a real friend, I will help, and help their companions if any. "

Chapter 4, Back at school, some days later.

The leader of Joan's friends, Donna, stood up from their lunch table, and the other three followed suit. Mittens, the smallest and youngest was trembling, shedding fear scent. If the coming confrontation came to a real fight, she was dead. Donna looked at the lunch room camera and said, "Lunch, K12, record.", the signal for the lunch room cameras to be for sure activated and the footage tagged. She almost did not need to. The whole room had fallen to whispers of "They're going to do it." with a forest of hand devices held high.

They formed a line at the foot of the wolves' table. The wolves were watching, and had been expecting a traditional soothing-of-the-way 'confrontation'.

Donna said, "We challenge you as vengeance for the death of Joan Wolfkiller."

Lewis, the senior wolf, replied, "We decline in the name of Michael the Compassionate. We apologize for any offense given."

Donna's eyes went wide. "Michael the what!? After what he said? He was bloody to his eyebrows when he was done, when she was done."

"He had apologized abjectly. If he had kissed her foot it would not have been as abject. He tried to work with the system, and it all but killed him. And it is at least as accurate as Wolfkiller."

They would have gone on, some of this had been scripted and role played separately by both sides. But Brian, the freshman wolf, had scented Mittens fear. Grinning, teasing, he caught her eye and licked his lips. Mittens, overwhelmed, started to cry her stress and fear out. The shocked looks on the deer side directed Lewis to the trouble.

"Brian, you will not screw this up." Lewis growled threat, "You will apologize for that." Lewis continued in a more normal voice, "Donna, his right to breed is forfeit into your hand." Brian looked surprised, ears up, then down into the omega wolf position. A deep breath later he bared his neck to the four deer. Donna looked as though she would forgive him, but the next thought was different. "Brian, you will not hunt deer, you will not kill deer, though you may eat deer that others have killed. This for the rest of your life or until you save a deer's life. Agreed?" He bowed his head, whimpered, and swallowed hard. "Agreed." He put his head down on the table over his crossed arms, unknowingly like Joan had. He had been 'epically' embarrassed and disciplined in front of the whole school. A tear filled each eye.

Maria gave Mittens a side hug.

"Brian", said Donna, "we need that tear. She produced a glass from her purse, and held it to his cheek, and collected a tear. "Mittens, you too." "These two tears are just like the conflict. We will still need to honor Joan. And Michael. How is he?"

"He was seriously injured. Massive internal injuries, the kick to his nads will make him less fertile. He is not likely to be pack-alpha ever. We mourn him, he would have been a great leader."

She poured grape juice into the glass. "This is just grape juice, they do not allow us anything stronger. But we can make it sacred. The tears are just the start."

Lewis held out his hand, and received the glass. "Our ways of being sacred involve blood." He bit his finger, and added a drop to the glass.

"Oh, yuck. But we had anticipated that. Maria?"

Maria took the glass, and reached into her purse, found a blood filled vial, and added a drop to the glass. "It comes easy this time of month."

The wolf boys looked a bit grossed out, while grinning with politely closed mouths.

Donna said, "This needs more. Can you think of something sad? I can." She held the glass to her cheek as a tear fell into it.

"I have trouble thinking of anything else." said Lewis, reaching for the glass, letting go his tough-wolf emotional stance, and adding a tear to the juice as well.

"Blood and tears." Donna and Lewis softly intoned. "Blood and tears!" the rest echoed. "Blood and tears!" the lunchroom chanted.

The leaders locked eyes. Lewis whispered, "Joan first."

"To Joan Wolfkiller and Michael the Compassionate." they said.

Their two hands raised the glass. And Donna gave it to Lewis, who sipped and returned it. All eight drank a sip to that toast. Nor was there a dry eye.

Donna said, "We still want something. An ear, and someone took her tail, and we want that. No gaming for it, just that. Oh and a game for vengeance."

"Bloodless, I hope? Chess? Volleyball?" Always the good wolf.

"Yes, we can work something out."

"You will have to ask Michael, but I suspect he will agree. He needs one ear as a resume, but he is likely willing to help. We don't know who has the tail."

"Where did her body go?" Donna asked.

"You are morbidly curious. We never asked. Likely some other school, where the 'donor' is unknown. You know how it is." Quote marks around 'donor' via fingers.

"No one is wasted."

"But you should see my drunk uncle." Lewis echoed a TV comedian, an almost reflex response.

Laura, the second biggest doe spoke up, "Also 10 flowers from the grave of one of Michael's relatives."

"Can do, might take a while, the last ones got sold already."

"Anything that you want from us?" Donna regained control of the conversation.

"We will talk later. Maybe something, nothing unreasonable." Lewis had not planned for that.

Donna turned to Brian, "Thanks for the tear, that was special. If you ever find a deer buddy, you two can practice hunting and evading together."

Chapter 5: Silly rhyme

Little doe Joan come kick some ass,

The wolves' in the meadow,

The cat's in the grass,

Where is our wolf killer, fast asleep?

Under the counter, marked as meat.

Chapter 6: The undertakers, the day after her death

We handle the bodies for the government lunch program, carnivore division. Which usually includes many omnivores like ourselves. We check them as they come in, register them in the database, which usually comes up with an address to send the bones and skin to. We do a skinning technique that saves the face skin, known nastily as a raccoon cut, from the time that a raccoon hat and fur craze almost wiped out that species.

When I got home, my kits were going on about a brave doe, in a 'net movie. The injuries matched the girl we had processed that day. I must have been a bit startled, the kits caught on fast, and I think they suspected anyway. Her meat is in the general locker, not marked, and will be distributed to the next bunch of schools that ask for meat. We do the cuts so that the death damage is not noticeable. So no one should know who they are eating. But maybe we should move the venison to another district, as the flavor is noticeable, and anyone eating venison in this district will think of Joan. Well, it is likely too late now, and anyway, I'm done for the day.

Chapter 7: The final tribute, a few days later

"You're in the school lunch program? What are you having?"

Quietly, with an embarrassed and slightly grossed out look, "Venison. You know who, likely."

"Keep that quiet, it will upset people if they knew, and you could die of that."

"It's not my fault that they all but told me. I try not to know the 'donor'. Should I say a prayer?"

"If you make a fuss, this will be blown out of proportion. Say it silently."

Some of the other tables were coming to the same conclusion. But not everyone was as situationally alert. A few were caught with a paper cup to their eye. The deer and to a lesser extent, the other herbivores were uneasy, but understood that it was done in respect. They just wished it had been done before the others had tasted their lunch. The gesture spread as it was not objected to. The non-herb kids that were not on the lunch program joined in. The kids stood as they joined. They exchanged looks, and then cups as the herbivores added their tears, and shared the toast, "To Joan". And a few added softly, "To Michael".

One badger, a bit too bold, said aloud "if this was Joan's funeral, would anyone want to say a word?" Heads shook 'No' in response. Someone asked a antlerless young stag if eating was more offensive or less since the donor was suspected. He was flustered, but answered, "Eat. You must eat and it must be someone. So do not waste and require more death to feed you.". The lunch room tape was forwarded to Joan's herd, quietly.

Chapter 8: Cindy Deer

She had wandered, head down, sad, and wandered uncaring. She was just walking aimlessly, not so much to travel as to deal with her emotions. She was mourning a sister and a niece, mourning family more than fallen stars. It was in an industrial area that the scents woke her, startled. Fear! Deer! Wolves! But by then it was late. She turned, and two of them were there. She turned back and two more blocked her path.

"There are enough of us, more than enough, to take you down. Come with us and be easy." The largest one said.

"You are dead, but we can make it quiet. Simple bloodletting, with drugs if you want. Nearly painless." He tried to sell her on this easy way.

Her blood was up, She frantically looked around, but she was trapped, no help in sight.

"If you come quietly, we will make it easy. Let you write a letter, sign out of your life."

Her tail dropped, she went back into her sadness, and took the time offered to start to mourn herself.

"Thank you. We will need your purse, mostly for your cell phone, also for identification."

He took her cell phone, and tossed it into a alley where it was caught by a short person, unseen, who said, "Thanks". Raccoon from the accent.

"How..., why did you select me?"

"Sad, deer species, alone. As for why, there was almost a death in the local pack. It was due to a deer champion. We hunt this area for deer, but your death will be the last one needed for that."

"I lost a niece and a sister. The niece had training."

"Then we lucked out, and got the right one accidentally. We are discouraging prey from having champions."

"She was only going to be defensive."

"Her first use was offensive, though understandable."

"You saw the school video?"

"In its on-line version. It went viral.", he said.

"Yes, little Joan Deer vs Michael. Joan Wolfkiller they called her after her death."

"Effectively all but Wolfkiller. Michael is in the ICU and is too damaged to ever be pack alpha."

They were walking as a group, Cindy Deer on the inside of a square of wolves. Her nose was crying Wolves! Panic! But she took calming breaths, and continued walking. Her problems past were now trivial. She was saying good bye to her body. It felt odd to be walking and using a body that soon would be dead. She felt every part, every breath, every muscle in her legs as special as she took her leave of herself.

"Where are you taking me?"

"We find that prey like to have some time to walk and think, so we hunt away from our vans. "

Another spoke up, "It does make it an awkward drag when they resist."

"The scent back there said you took another deer before me."

"Yes. And after this we will hunt anyone we can find around here. We have cleaned up the area of the homeless already."

"That is sad. Just people down on their luck, and now food for red-teeth."

"We hunt. You know why. The thinners of the herds, flocks, warrens, whatever. The way to avoid starvation by over-breeding."

"Actually the way I heard it was that we took pity on killer species, allowed them to live, and took the consequences. Are you company wolves?

"Yes, we are."

"Not that truck, ma'am," The cargo trailer reeked of blood. "This one. Up the ramp. OK, now take off your clothes. Don't worry about modesty, we will see more of your body than you have. Here is a writing table and pen and paper. We will not censor, we just have found that cell phones have too many 'call for help' apps for our comfort. "

"I need to pee."

"OK, then over this way first." He led her to the restroom. When she returned, "Sit here, be comfortable. " He sat her down and then locked a leg cuff onto her..

"Give me a moment. OK, please extend your right leg." He shaved a patch, cleaned with an iodine colored solution, and applied a topical anesthetic. He sat, watching the second hand of the clock.

She started to write, addressing the letter to her herd, telling of her love, of her coming death, of the vengeance, and including a description of the wolves.

"One moment ma'am, This will only hurt a bit." He carefully inserted a large bore needle into her vein at the cleaned area. Her reddish brown blood ran down a series of tubes.

"We will donate half this blood to the deer blood drive, the rest we sell to the ones who eat blood flavored rice."

She had time to write to a few friends before she felt faint.

"Just put your head down, you will be aware for longer that way."

"You are very comforting."

"It was part of the deal we made on the street. No struggle, minimal pain."

"Could you yawn for me? I want to see a wolf gullet."

He called an assistant over to keep watch, and yawned until his cheeks felt like cracking.

"Wow, that will be my bodies home. Could you tell me a bed time story? I am feeling tired."

"Oddly we get that request enough that we know some. What do you want? Good wolves, bad wolves, good deer, what?

"Wolves you have had to hunt down."

He started. After a while her eyes closed, and further along her breathing stopped. He stopped the story then, and moved her to drain the rest of the blood. Then back to the back van, for processing.

He stamped the envelopes, and put them in the mail pick up basket.

End