Shamgar held the bow steady. His arrow trained on a bull elk. A big elk with a 4-by-5 point rack. Patience was the key.
Mason, Shamgar, and Tom waited in a hole they dug into the snow. The perfect hunting blind. From the elk’s perspective, only Shamgar’s head and shoulders poked above the snow wall. Mason lay up against the edge of the blind, peering over. Tom stood on Shamgar’s other side, tasting the air.
Though the other two couldn’t tell, Shamgar’s Friend stood beside him. Shamgar himself couldn’t see him, but he could feel him. His kind, gentle spirit. In a soft voice, Shamgar heard his Friend speak through his heart. I’ve led and preserved this elk for you since the day it was born. Enjoy. It’s my gift to you.
Shamgar smiled as the familiar warmth grew in his chest. Thank you, Friend.
No wind to make the shot tricky. The perfect day for hunting. So perfect that not even Mason could complain, which really said something.
The kid loved to complain as if it were a game. In fact, Shamgar made it a game. Mason didn’t know this of course.
The goal Shamgar had set for the day was fifteen complaints and the current score stood at four. The first complaint Mason voiced was from the bland breakfast Shamgar had thrown together, another from Shamgar’s archaic form of hunting with a bow, and the last two at having to sit still while they waited for the bull elk to approach.
Other than complaining, Mason was typically silent. As the days progressed he opened up more, but not much. He couldn’t blame the kid, though. His world just fell apart. Things like this could only be sorted out with time.
Tom licked his lips and gave a soft whine. He glanced at Shamgar, asking for permission to chase the bull.
“Not yet, girl,” Shamgar whispered. He smiled at her. What a beautiful dog. A full-bred gray wolf. The only thing that tamed her was her unrelenting love for Shamgar. He was lucky to have such a dog at his side. How can I thank you enough for all the blessings you’ve given me?
The warmth inside his heart grew. God found absolute delight in seeing Shamgar live a true and fulfilling life in his holy presence.
The bull elk moved to a closer aspen and began licking the nutrient-rich bark. Still too far. Lead her closer to us, Jesus.
If he had a gun, this hunt would’ve ended an hour ago, but guns were loud. They attracted unwanted attention. Still, with a gun, he would’ve hit the deer yesterday. He never missed with a gun.
His adrenaline spiked as a chill crept in. Guns. They were beautiful and disastrous machines. Such a refined piece of technology. So compact. So deadly and efficient. The power it gave him. The confidence.
Nothing was out of his reach when he had a gun in hand. Items had no cost. Wealth and status had no authority. He was the king everywhere he went. No one could tell him what to do. He had absolute power. The power to kill was . . .
What was he thinking? Shamgar forced the thoughts away. As memories left, the warmth returned once more.
I’ve redeemed you from such a life and called you to something grander, do you wish to return?
The answer was obvious. The power he possessed from such a lifestyle was tempting, but it only brought destruction and dissatisfaction. He’d found something better. Why go back?
The elk moved further up the mountain, stepping closer to Shamgar and his arrow. The bull elk knew nothing. His gaze focused on the next aspen.
Shamgar took a deep breath and held it. Warmth ran up his arm as his Friend guided his hand through a soft touch. The end of his arrow pointed just above the heart to compensate for gravity. He let the bowstring slip off his calloused fingers.
The string snapped forward, slicing the air with a soft hum. The feathers on the arrow whistled in the silent forest before it lodged itself right behind the elk’s shoulder with a thwap!
The bull belted with pain and reeled in the air before bolting down the slope.
“Now, Tom!” Shamgar yelled. “Go get him!”
Tom launched from the dugout, snow spraying off her paws.
Shamgar stomped his boots into his ski bindings, listening to the soft click as they snapped into place. With his bow in hand, he gripped the side of the blind, and somersaulted over its cold edge, landing with his skis under him.
“I’ll see you at the bottom!” Shamgar yelled over his shoulder. Hopefully Mason wouldn’t have to run too far to catch up, especially in such deep snow.
Before Mason could reply, gravity carried Shamgar out of earshot.
Wind rushed past him. The sun vanished and reappeared as he navigated the dense aspens. Left, right. Right, right, left. The fresh layer of snow made the ride smooth and helped him execute tight turns.
All the while, the joyful presence of his Friend filled him. Always loving. Always guiding. Occasionally he felt a tug in his heart toward the right or left. After many years he learned to never doubt such prompting. To rest in his presence, he had to obey without hesitation.
Shamgar followed the tracks and the bloody trail as best he could. Sometimes separating to follow a natural channel through the trees. The snow crunched and swooshed underneath as he pressed the edges of his skis against the snow to make a sharp turn. No time to analyze. No time to pick the best path. Spot and execute. His speed allowed for nothing more. Only at this reckless pace could he catch up to Tom and the elk.
The cold, familiar air stung his face as it always did during ski chases. This was living! This was the wild! The thrill. The beauty. The basics of survival. He belonged in the rawness of God’s creation.
Snow sparkled on the trees and ground, softening the sharp edges of erosion. Undisturbed except where life etched its existence. Accenting all living things. Silencing the world so the trees had their chance to sing their airy melodies to their Creator.
The sun shone low in the south. Gentle in its sleepy winter state. Soft in its power. Warm in its presence. Yet ever available, as if determined not to let the winter win. Determined to reclaim the domain that was stolen from it. The land that rebelled and fell from its intended glory.
The clouds spanned the sky like feathers too light to ever descend within reach. Wispy brush strokes that streaked the marvelously blue skies and revealed the invisible patterns of the wind like a dance orchestrated by the Creator.
All this was for him. A love note written by his God to remind him of his presence. To express his intricacy, to demonstrate his uncontainable power, and to reveal the depth of his goodness. This was his God. This was man’s true best Friend.
Tom howled up ahead.
They were close. Through the white trunks of aspens, Shamgar caught glimpses of Tom’s gray body and the earthy-brown coat of the elk. They were slowing down. Tired from the deep snow. Tom faithfully trailed the target, but she was smart enough to know not to take on the bull alone.
Shamgar dodged another group of trees. In the leisure of an open space, he reached back and pulled out an arrow. He swerved to glide between two close trees and ducked to dodge a third. His back hit a stick as he sped under.
Ahead, the elk veered uphill.
Tom leaped into action. Lengthening her strides, she approached the bull’s right and howled again.
One glance and the elk jumped to the left and continued downhill. All the while Shamgar gained on it.
He knocked the arrow and cut through the trees to fall in behind the animal. He lifted his bow and aimed. If only he could get a side shot.
Just then, the elk cut down a ravine. Tom bolted after it, while Shamgar was forced to arch around a dense group of trees.
With no trees to dodge, Shamgar crouched down to speed up. The wind buffeted his face. The vibration of his skis on the snow increased. He raced down the small ravine, following it as it curved back toward Tom and the elk.
Shamgar drew back the arrow and stood up. He pressed his thumb up to his cheek to aim. Tracking them through the trees, he redirected his course for the intercept. The presence of his Friend flooded around him as if permeating the air he breathed.
In a flash, the bull dashed into view. Tom followed at its heels, ready for an opportunity to leap and finish the kill.
Shamgar made his final calculations. Speeding up on the creature’s right, he let the string balance on his fingertips. Then, after closing one eye and placing the metallic tip of his arrow right behind the shoulder, he released.
The arrow sunk deep as the elk gave a shrill cry. Distracted, the bull stumbled and rolled in the snow.
Before it came to a stop, Tom leaped on him, lodging her fangs into the animal’s neck the moment they made contact.
A final painful whine escaped the elk’s throat before it slid to a stop. A few moments passed before the tussle ended and the powder settled. The elk continued kicking as his nerves spasmed. Tom planted her front paws on the bull’s neck and lifted her head and howled victoriously at the sky.
Shamgar smiled. Another successful hunt.
As always, he felt a stab of pain in his heart. Being so close to his Friend, it was natural to feel Jesus’ pain. The death of the elk was necessary for him and the others to survive, but it wasn’t ideal. Death was never ideal in his Maker’s eyes. This wasn’t his Friend’s original plan. He wanted harmony between people and animals. To live together in their Creator’s presence, but people ruined it. So, sacrifices had to be made. Death had to occur so life could continue. Even to the point of his Friend’s own death. All so people could be saved.
Thank you for providing us with our needs. Shamgar glanced up at the Almighty King who he knew was watching him.
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Check out some of my other short stories in the the Thrive universe like this one: Thrive Stories: The Last Communion
If you loved the poetry in this story, you may enjoy my post The Gospel in Creation
