The man was hungry. He should not risk coming out to the field. It was dangerous to be in the open—too many opportunities to be seen. But he knew this country, and he knew that there would be deer. There were always deer.

The buck stood still. It was listening. It sensed him in the quiet afternoon wind and remained frozen for a full two minutes. It waited. It watched. And then it went back to eating grass from the field.

The man crouched behind a tree, out of sight in the shadows. He reached for a rock just below his knee. He tested its weight.

The buck looked up again.

The man froze. He knew that the animal was about one hundred yards from him. It was fast. It would dart away at the slightest hint of danger. The man wondered if he was strong enough for this. He had not eaten in ten days. He wondered if this was going to work. His hunger told him that it would. So he waited and watched. The deer began to eat grass again.

The man’s arm arched back and he hurled the rock high into the air. It shot up and over the deer. The rock crashed to the ground and the buck startled forward, bounding towards the trees where the man hid.

He burst from the hiding place. He raced to the deer, grabbed it by the head and broke its neck with his hands. The animal was dead before it hit the ground. It’s last bewildered thought: this man is too fast.

That went well, thought the giant man as he picked up the animal without effort and slung it over his shoulder. It was time to eat. He could not cook it for fear of attracting attention with the fire. But that was all right. He had eaten raw deer meat before. It didn’t bother him. He liked it. He only had to skin the animal and fortunately he still had his knife. He walked back to the trees.

“That’s not yours, big man,” a voice demanded and the giant stopped.

“Aw, Christmas!” the giant muttered as he turned slowly. A short watchman dressed in the blue uniform of the Alliance drew a pistol on him. The giant wondered how he could have missed him.

The giant turned and let the deer carcass fall off his shoulder as he raced forward. He was on the watchman as fast as he could but not before the poor fool had managed to pull the trigger. At this close range it was impossible to miss. The bullet bounced off the giant’s skin, ricocheting into the night. The frail, little man was crushed beneath the giant’s strength.

The giant stood over the crumpled watchman. Should he kill him? Yes, he probably should. But no, he didn’t.

“Hey, you there?” the watchman’s walkie-talkie squawked.

The giant ran back into the woods. Now he must run and find a place to hide.