The hunter and the deer

[Aznar]

The deer was gently strolling alongside a jolly little creek. Butterflies went from flower to flower. Birds were tweeting and chattering. A little rabbit hopped around, scavenging for food. A squirl made it's way up a tree, carrying an acorn. Every now and then the deer took a sip of water, carelessly looking around for no particular reason. It hadn’t been in danger before, but still, it was instinct. The deer sniffed it’s nose and visibly relaxed. There was no scent of predators anywhere nearby.
But what the deer didn’t know is that most hunters knew how to position themselves downwind. As such, one of those hunters had cleverly concealed himself behind a large oak tree and was drawing an arrow back on his composite bow. The hunter calmly took a breath, then released. The arrow flew loose lightning fast and hit the deer right between the eyes. Then it bounced off the animal harmlessly on the floor. The deer, startled by the strange object, quickly ran away. The hunter remained there, baffled. After a moment he thoroughly started examining his bow. Then he checked his remaining arrows. After deciding that all was in good order, he went for the arrow that bounced into the dirt and bent over to pick it up.
Before he knew what was happening, he felt a sharp pain in his behind and a moment later he lay headfirst in the dirt. He got back up and looked around. There was nobody around, but he could have sworn he had felt someone kick him. He drew his hunting knife and assumed a defensive position. “Whoever you are, leave me alone.”
Out of the woods a voice echoed, seemingly coming from a different direction at every echo, “if you value your life, abandon your hunt.”
The hunter looked around, pointing his knife in all directions. “Please, we need the food. I have kids to feed. We are starving!”
It remained silent for a while, then a sudden gust of wind shook the leaves in the trees and the hunter shivered. “Feast on the countless bounties our precious nature provides, without destroying it,” the voice echoed.
“But I am a hunter. I know only how to hunt.”
It remained eerily silent for a while, but then the wind came again. This time, it was not just a gust, but a full fledged storm. The hunter could barely stand his ground and had to protect his eyes from flying leaves and dirt. “Then you must perish,” the voice echoed again.
From a distance, the hunter heard a buzzing sound coming closer and closer. Meanwhile the storm became weaker and weaker. “Please! Have mercy!”
There was no answer. The buzzing came nearer and nearer, until the hunter finally realised his doom. The storm was gone now, but a swarm of bees appeared and started assaulting him. He slashed his knife all around him, in a futile attempt to protect himself against the stings. Before long, his entire face was bloated by hundreds of bee stings. The hunter became weaker and weaker, his cries of pain echoed in the woods, until finally he succumbed and dropped to the dirt. His breathing was barely a whisper, yet he drew one last creaking breath with all the power that remained in him, and then he simply let it out again for the very last time in his life. That moment, the bees disappeared into all directions.
A moment later, a man appeared. He wore a dark blue robe and wielded a large, adorned staff. He was bald and had a brown beard. When He walked up to the corpse of the hunter, he looked at it for a moment then shook his head. “You should have learned how to grow crops,” he said. Then he spat on the corpse and casually walked off into the woods, whistling a merry tune.