A boy—barely more than fifteen—sat perched on the edge of the cabin’s single window. The butt of a rifle rested snug against his shoulder, and he squinted through the scope. His face was thin, sun-browned, his features sharp with focus.

The clearing beyond the cabin stretched wide and quiet, a brittle stillness broken only by the dry rustle of wind through the grass. At its edge, a coyote crept forward, sniffing cautiously toward a figure crumpled in the dirt.

The boy followed its movements through the scope, his finger brushing the trigger. The coyote froze, ears flicking at the stillness, then inched closer, its nose skimming the dirt near the figure’s outstretched arm.

“Guess they’ll get to him soon,” the boy murmured, almost to himself. His voice was low, steady—devoid of any urgency or doubt. It was as if he were describing the inevitable: the sky darkening, the sun setting, scavengers closing in.

The creak of the door broke the silence behind him. The boy didn’t turn.

“Still at it?” The voice belonged to a broad-shouldered man who filled the doorway, his outline cutting into the light. His face was hidden in shadow, but the glint of a carving knife caught the sun as he wiped it slowly against his sleeve.

The boy gave the faintest shrug, his eye still pressed to the scope. “He hasn’t moved.”

The man stepped onto the porch, the boards groaning under his weight. He leaned against the frame, arms crossing loosely over his chest. “Doesn’t matter. Leave it.”

The boy’s finger paused near the trigger. He exhaled slowly, a long, deliberate breath, and lowered the rifle to his lap. “Coyotes’ll get him anyway.”

“Good.” The man’s voice was flat, final. He turned back into the cabin without another word.

The boy stayed at the window, unmoving. The rifle hung limp in his hands, its barrel catching glints of light as he tilted it absently. He glanced back to the clearing, watching as the coyote sniffed closer to the dead man’s hand.

Then, with a sharp motion, the boy slung the rifle over his shoulder and disappeared into the cabin after the man. Behind him, the clearing stretched on, still and quiet, as the wind began to rise again.