It was the first time I had ever killed a deer. It was an impressive creature, both large and incredibly fast. For a second it stood completely still as if frozen in time, not moving a muscle. I took this rare opportunity, I aimed my gun carefully. 

“Take the shot,” my dad whispered. 

I took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. “BANG!” The gunshot echoed through the woods, scaring the birds into the sky. The deer bolted the instant the bullet made contact with its body, its powerful legs propelling it forward in a desperate escape. I stood for a second, my heart pounding, before I gathered myself and followed the trail of blood. 

I tracked the blood through the dense underbrush, my breath quickening with each step. Finally, I found its body slumped over, lifeless. My dad was by my side, a silent partner at this moment.

"Good job, buddy," my dad said quietly as we lifted the deer.