Jonas

No rustling, no chirping, nothing.

Just our own breathing and the occasional crunch underfoot.

It was the kind of silence that presses on your eardrums, makes you feel like you're underwater.

About a hundred yards in, the ground dipped and we reached the edge of the ravine.

That's when Rob's light caught something up ahead.

At first it looked like a pale log or rock dusted with frost, but then I saw the legs.

It was a deer, lying on its side, but the way it was positioned stopped me in my tracks.

The legs were stretched out perfectly straight, like someone had taken time to arrange them.

The head was turned slightly, just enough that it looked posed.

The torso had been cut open straight down the middle clean, precise, almost like it had been done with a scalpel.

The ribs were in touch, perfectly intact, but the cavity was completely empty.

No blood.

No mess.

Just a hollowed-out body resting on undisturbed ground.

And no drag marks.

No paw prints.

No indication it had been killed or even moved.

Just placed there.

Rob crouched down beside it, flashlight trembling slightly in his hand.

This ain't the first, he said, barely audible.