If he continued on his current path he would end up cresting the draw 50 yards to my right. I had to move if I had any hope of catching him. I could follow his progress through the trees as he worked his way up the steep slope. When he moved, I moved, gradually working further to my left.
Just as a reached a point where I was running out of cover, the bull turned and came straight toward me. There was a small tree between us, and he stopped less than 15 yards away. He would have to go one way or the other around it, and either way was fine with me.
I've been in similar situations often enough in the past to know that even at that distance there are too many things that can go wrong. I tried to stay as calm as I could hoping this time would be different, but to be honest I think I was hyperventilating.
The bull started walking slowly to my left. Two more steps would put him at 12 yards broadside, but suddenly he froze and came to full alert. The wind was great, so I don't think he smelled me, but just like that things went from perfect to bad - and an all too familiar feeling of helplessness came over me.
The bull reversed direction and started to head back downhill and out of my life. But as he did so, he cleared the tree between us at just over 20 yards and quartering hard away from me. With barely a thought, my bow was at full draw, and an arrow that looked just like one of mine appeared on his side. Only the fletching was sticking out as he tore his way downhill away from me. The hit was farther back than I wanted, but I hoped against hope that it might have angled forward enough to reach vital organs.