Imagine the early morning light reflecting off the barrel of your gun. You sit silent as you wait for your trophy fuck to pass by. You see her and she is moving slowly, trying ever so hard not to step on a twig, or rustle any leaves. You look at her through your scope. It would be so easy to just finish her off, but a clean head shot is not what you really want.
You want to make her suffer, to allow the chase to go on just a bit longer. You smile and adjust your rifle. You lick your lips, putting your finger on the trigger. She looks right at you for a moment, you are almost sure she saw you, but she goes back to watching where she is stepping.
You squeeze one off and it hits her right in the tender flesh of the back of her thigh. She screams out in pain and tries to run. She is looking wildly around, you see her grit her teeth as she tries to stem the flow of blood with her hand. She is maimed. You chuckle to yourself, and lower yourself down from your perch.
You make your way back to camp to drink a cup of coffee, you know she won’t get far. You look over your shoulder to the trophys you already have. Their pelts swaying lightly in the breeze. There are those who pay a high price for these types of skins. After admiring those you already have, you make your way back out into the woods to get your next pale skinned beauty.
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