The ruined abbey lay in the middle of the hunting grounds. Most of the hunters avoided it out of superstition, which made it the perfect place to lay in wait.
I watched the ivy-covered ruins until, late in the day, when a huge stag appeared in the wreck of an arched doorway. It stood there, a silhouette in the gloaming, as though it had never before seen man nor arrow.
I had the odd fancy that it had just received confession, and to take its life would be a sin. Then my stomach rumbled, and I took the shot.