She was a child, a bit of a tomboy, the last time she visited the hunting lodge. It had been a summer ritual for her and her father, and on his passing she had felt drawn to the place and the memories it invoked. On all previous occasions, she had shot and successfully killed, but now she was older and had replaced the rifle for a first aid kit.
Over the course of her life, she must’ve killed hundreds of animals, from birds to rabbits to deer, then more recently cats and dogs. Her killing now, she knew, in part, was atonement for the senseless killing back then.
For she was a vet, and every life she took now was an act of compassion.
As she stepped out of the hunting lodge, she found herself in a magical Disney Princess moment. Whereas before, the animals would run and hide, now they seemed to be drawn towards her.
A doe approached with blood dripping from its front leg and she fixed its wound. A bird hopped towards her with a broken wing and she applied a splint.
She was here for the memory of her father, the man who had turned her into a killer, but she was also here to bring and find peace. The animals seemed to know and she worked tirelessly throughout the season, doing the best that she could as the occasional sound of gunshot in the distance drifted into the background.