Travelling through the dark I found a deer dead on the edge of the Wilson River road. It is usually best to roll them into the canyon: that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead. By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing; she had stiffened already, almost cold. I dragged her off; she was large in the belly. My …showed first 75 words of 157 total…

…showed last 75 words of 157 total…reason- her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting, alive, still, never to be born. Beside the mountain road I hesitated. The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights; under the hood purred the steady engine. I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red; around our group I could hear the wilderness listen. I thought hard for us all -my only swerving- then pushed her over the edge into the river.