off his face and chest. Snowbaby owl flew down and started it’s own ice cold talking into the hunter’s ear. “Whoo whoo whoo, whoo whoo,” it said, over and over.
“Look at that! Snowbaby squirrel and snowbaby owl know you are lying, young hunter,” the mountain lion said. “The truth, please.”
“Alright! I kind of borrowed it. Maybe Mr. Glimpy knows, maybe he doesn’t, but I was going to bring it back, I swear I was.”
Snowbaby owl gave one last chilly hoot and flew back to it’s perch.
“Mmmmm ….” the mountain lion said. “Kind of borrowed it? You mean you stole it, correct? Late at night, a few days ago, you broke into the shop and stole it. Think hard, young hunter. Do you remember? It was snowing that night, so the snowbaby spirit and the snowbaby energy was all around. We know everything that happened.”
“I … I … I …” the hunter stammered.
“Sometimes the truth is hard to admit, is it not?” the mountain lion said.
“But I’m a hunter! A hunter needs a rifle, and … I needed a new rifle. My mom and I don’t have any money … so yes, I will admit it. I stole the rifle!”
“Ahhh yes, young hunter, the truth has finally come out. Now listen very closely. The snowbabies will give you a chance. A chance to correct your wrongdoings. All you have to do is promise to follow my instructions. Tell us. Will you promise?”
“I promise,” the hunter said, in a voice so low it was barely heard.
“Louder, please,” the mountain lion said. “Say it like you mean it.”
“I promise!” the hunter yelled out.
“We shall see. Young hunter, allow me to give you a small warning. If you fail to carry out my instructions, as simple as they are, you will be receiving a visitor. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” the hunter said, barely able to contain his anger. How dare he be spoken to like he was a small child?
“Very well. Believe me, young hunter, you do not want to be visited by this snowbaby, who just happens to not be here with us today. The snowbaby known as Frostybear.”
At the sound of the name Frostybear, the snowbaby owl tucked it’s head into it’s chest and hooted softly. Snowbaby squirrel and snowbaby beaver both fell to their sides and rolled up against one of the icy walls, hiding their faces.
“Even these snowbabies are afraid,” the mountain lion said.
“Alright! Tell me what I have to do, so I can get out of here,” the hunter said.
“Calm yourself, young hunter. You need to follow my instructions exactly. If you are angry, you might not hear me correctly. Are you calm? Are you ready to listen?”
“I’m as calm as I’ll ever be, so just go ahead and tell me.”
“Young hunter, my instructions, like I said, are simple. You are instructed to only hunt during the season. We do not want to see you out here hunting any other time. You are also instructed to return the stolen rifle directly to Mr. Glimpy no later than tomorrow, which is Saturday. You will tell him you are sorry for what you did. If these instructions are not followed, you have been warned. You will receive a visit from the snowbaby known as Frostybear. That is all. I sincerely hope you take these instructions to heart, young hunter. Remember, you promised to follow them.”
“And you promised to let me loose. So what are you waiting for? Let me go already,” the hunter said.
“Close your eyes and count to ten, young hunter, and you will find yourself free to go. The rifle will be at your side. Once again, remember my instructions, and above all, remember you promised.”
The hunter did as he was told, and when he opened his eyes, sure enough, the rifle was right there, laying at his side. He found himself lying on top of one of the large oval shaped black rocks. A rock that looked like an eye in a face, he vaguely remembered.
“What nonsense,” the hunter said to himself as he slid off the rock and picked up his rifle.
Saturday Morning: The Blizzard
The hunter lay in his warm bed, visions of white snowy animals racing through his mind. It was early Saturday morning, the day after he had went out hunting, the day after he had that strange visit with … what did the thing that looked like a mountain lion say they were? … snowbabies? … yes, that sounded right. It must’ve been a crazy, very real feeling dream. That’s the only way to explain it. He clearly remembered shooting the deer but only wounding it, then tracking it, then … he couldn’t say for sure … he must’ve slipped and hit his head … … somehow he had dreamt the craziest dream he could ever imagine.
In the dream, or did it really happen, he had to admit he was hunting illegally, and that he did steal the rifle. Also, wasn’t there something about a promise? A promise he made to a bizarre icy and snowy mountain lion? He promised to only hunt during the season. And didn’t he also promise to return the stolen rifle to Glimpy’s today? If it was true, it was a promise he wouldn’t keep. No way. That would be foolish. For sure Mr. Glimpy would call the police, and his mother would find out, and he might even have to go to jail, and who knew what else. The rifle was safe, hidden in a box under his bed.
His friend Cody had called a few minutes ago. They made plans to go out snowmobiling for a few hours before lunchtime. There were some cool trails that went all through the fields, and this was a good time for the hunter to get back outside. He might get real lucky and get his one shot, instant kill after all.
It wasn’t long before the hunter and Cody were out in the fields racing their snowmobiles through the trails. Cody had a faster snowmobile, so Cody zoomed away, far ahead of the hunter. The sky was filled with pale gray clouds and a light breezy snow was falling. Once Cody was out of sight the hunter slowed down his snowmobile and came to a full stop. He sat there, nice and quiet. He pulled his fur lined hunting cap tighter over his head. The air was very cold, and the snow fell in a steady, icy drizzle that stung his cheeks. From underneath the seat he pulled out his rifle and laid it across his lap. Just in case. If any animal came his way he wanted to be ready.
The hunter heard Cody coming closer from a quarter-mile away. A minute later Cody skidded to a stop next to the hunter. Cody glanced at the rifle in the hunter’s lap.
“Hey man,” Cody said. “What’s with the gun? It’s not hunting season for a couple of weeks.”
“I know,” the hunter said. “Don’t worry. I won’t do any shooting. Promise.”
“Oh man, you had me worried for a second. Come on, there are some really cool snow drifts up ahead. Hard packed and everything! I already made a few jumps off of them. Let’s go. It’s no fun just sitting here.”
Cody didn’t wait for any kind of reply. He revved up his snowmobile and drove away, looking back at the hunter for a brief second.
It took a few minutes until everything was nice and quiet again. The hunter wasn’t in the mood to go anywhere just yet. Patience, that was another mark of a true hunter. Patience to wait, no matter what the weather was, no matter if it was snowing or freezing cold, the only thing that mattered was waiting patiently for that one shot, instant kill.
The hunter was startled by a sudden scratching sound coming from behind him. He turned in the direction of the noise and watched a slender, orange furred fox scratching a dark brown elm tree. The fox paused, it’s nose twitching, trying to see if there was any scent it could pick up. The hunter quietly picked up his rifle and held his breath. The fox stood on it’s hind legs, it’s front paws leaning against the tree, perfectly still. What a target, the hunter thought. He took his time aiming, and when the fox was squarely in his sights he pulled the trigger.
The shot was deadly, hitting the fox in the center of it’s chest, killing it instantly. The fox fell to the snowy ground. The hunter couldn’t help but smile. It was only a fox, what most hunters would consider an easy shot, but the hunter didn’t care. He had finally achieved what he wanted. He could feel the excitement and satisfaction rushing through his body. He did it. One shot, instant kill. What a great feeling. He patted the rifle and whispered, “Y
ou did good,” and placed the rifle back under the seat. No need for Cody or anyone else to know what he’d done. This would be his little secret.
The hunter turned the ignition and braced himself for the sudden jolt that always came when his snowmobile roared to life. But nothing happened. He tried again, making sure he was doing it right, but the ignition only made a short clicking sound. He had plenty of gas, and he knew the battery was fully charged, so there should be no reason for it not to start.
He now noticed that the snow had started to fall heavier, that it was now coming down in thick white flakes that seemed to totally surround him. The wind began to blow harder, an icy cold wind that swirled and swirled, so cold the hunter could feel the chill reach down to his bones.
Come on, he whispered to the snowmobile as he tried again. The snowmobile sputtered and coughed, but the engine wouldn’t fire. Some snow must’ve melted and shorted out a wire, the hunter thought, and there are some spare wires in the trunk that should fix the problem. He slid off the seat and dropped to the snow covered ground.
No sooner had his boots landed when there came a piercing growl that cut right through the driving snow and fierce wind. The growl echoed loudly in the hunter’s ears, filling his head with an icy cold shiver. The hunter put his hands over his ears and struggled towards the trunk. Have to get going, he told
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