The end of deer season
Darkness enveloped the silent, cold tundra of the Minnesota north woods, including that of the last holdout of the black powder deer hunter. This primitive hunter, armed only with a one-shot musket, had been sitting on his deer stand, swaying in the merciless wind, with bottomless wind-chills, for over 10 hours. He seems ghostly white, covered with snow that swirls up from the white ground, encircling up and round the tree tops.
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