Epilogue To The Forest In Frankenstein

The forest was in equilibrium.
Aim. Fire. BANG.
Birds squawked and frenzied, the peace of the forest disrupted by the loud firing of a hunting rifle, the harsh sound slicing through the air. The doe fell to the ground with a thud, unsettling the leaves around it. He lowered his hunting rifle, and squinted at the still body. He sprinted over to the corpse, eyeing the motionless animal, taking pride in his precise shot.
The doe’s dead body was sprawled almost elegantly across the forest floor. Blood stained the fur of the peaceful creature, crimson creeping out of the wound his bullet had created.
He’d had been around hunting his whole life. That’s how his family had gotten by, how they earned their money, got their food. He didn’t need to hunt to survive anymore, but
He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He didn't stop running until he reached his cabin. He opened the door and slammed it shut behind him. He remembered that he had left his rifle on the forest floor, but he didn’t care. He could only think of the blank, nearly dead of eyes of the doe staring at him.
He had never abandoned a hunt before, never been scared, never ran. And he had definitely never killed a doe that had a fawn, he usually tried to stay as far away from does as he could so he wouldn't potentially leave behind an orphaned fawn.
You doomed her. It’s all your fault. The thought bounced around in his mine The man, remorse and fear still running through his body, tried to convince himself that it was her fault, that that fawn wouldn't have survived in this cold weather anyway, that it would've just frozen to death anyway. He had just made things quicker.
Later that night, the man tossed and turned under his covers, unable to sleep. His stomach was uneasy and he felt sick. He saw the doe’s gaze staring into his soul, felt the presence of the foal, watching him every time he closed his eyes. He thought of how he had left that doe to rot and her foal to