The Leg

Me and Walter walk along the snowy path. There is a howling wind that chills me. I keep moving, knowing that I will warm up soon. The sun is shining through the trees making blue shadows on the crispy ground. I squint up at the sun and back down at the ground and those shadows once formed from darkness are now filled with light. A snapping twig, I look behind me. I can't see Walter anymore, he is far up ahead. Then I catch a glimpse of him. He is furiously sniffing the ground. His nose deep in the scent of a world that I am oblivious to. As I round the bend I notice a tree on the side of the trail that has fallen. It is bathed in sunlight and I have the sudden urge to sit on it and be still. I cautiously venture off the beaten path. The warm weather has made the snow weak and any wrong move will send my leg plummeting into its depths. I step onto the thick trunk, gently lowering myself down to sit. I stretch my legs out along it and slowly lean back to lay my head down. My eyes fall from the sky down to a tree standing in front of me. On it, a furry leg. A deers leg casually hung over a branch. Bent at the knee. Its hoof pointed towards the ground, gnawed bone cut off at the thigh as white as the snow beneath it. What? I yell, sitting up, as Walter comes crashing towards me.