“Let’s see what she’s been eating,” his uncle said. He cut into one of the bluish organs and corn seeds spilled out. He seemed pleased.

“Do you want to help me?” his uncle asked. He held up the long knife streaked with blood.

Timmy looked at the ground and shook his head. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, but he did not want to help his uncle at all. He wanted to go back to the trailer.

His uncle looked at Timmy. His dark eyes narrowed. Something he had always guessed at was being verified. He returned to the task in front of him, pleased, as he always was, when events confirmed his suspicions. He flung the animal’s heart, stomach, and liver into the woods. When he was finished, he washed his knife and his hands in the snow and the two of them walked back to the trailer in silence.

When Timmy opened the door he saw his father waiting at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of hot chocolate in his hands. His father’s face was raw from the cold. He stood to fix another cup for Timmy.

“Did you two have any luck? I didn’t see a thing all morning.”

“Uncle Bill got one,” Timmy said. He had removed his scarf and mittens and was working on his boots.

“Really?” His father looked up from the little gas stove.

They could both hear uncle Bill stomping his boots on the stairs to remove excess snow. He came in and sat at the table, removing his hood and gloves.

“You want a cup of cocoa, Bill? Timmy says you got one. You going back with the truck?”

“Yep. Gonna just unfreeze these fingers first. These gloves are supposed to be that new breathing kind. Load of horseshit is what that is. Soon as I took them off they froze solid.”

He banged the empty fingers of the gloves against the table to illustrate his point.

“Did you field dress him already? I’ve got some rope in my truck in case you want to hang him up.”

“Her,” said Timmy quietly. He resumed blowing on his hot chocolate.

Uncle Bill’s eyes went to Timmy briefly. He threw his hat on the table.

“Shot a doe by mistake. Thought I saw antlers. She was a long ways off.”

Timmy’s father looked concerned.

“What are you going to do about the tag?”

His uncle spread his hands apart.

“I’m not gonna worry bout it. I’m not gonna let the meat go to waste. I’ll put her beneath a tarp in the truck bed. It’ll be fine.”

Timmy sipped his hot chocolate. He thought about the two fawns disappearing into the woods. He knew his uncle had seen them too.

His father shook his head. He looked out the window. It was snowing again.

***