death

Tangled beyond the trees off a pasture lane a deer struggled in a barbed-wire fence. The wind died down and the sunlight rolled across the ground as I moved in closer. A crimson hourglass was filling beneath an angry No Trespass sign. The wheels of giants whined on a concrete highway off in the distance.
It watched my shadow, then at arms length anchoring and bending down its black eyes watched me the entire time as it kicked and tightened the sharp rusty thorns. I said quietly and assuredly everything would be okay but it kicked harder. And then there was no more kicking, and both the trees and I shivered.

I hate fences.