I've been reading about Stonehenge...I'm sure this is factually inaccurate in places but I decided that I didn't really care :)

The sun begins to sink and cast its light through the giant stone gateway, throwing the rest of the henge into stark contrast as it stands, black against a crimson sky. Two hunters crouch in the brush, separated by a cluster of saplings on the fringe of what should have been a great forest. They remain still, as they have been all day, the red deer antlers of their headdresses standing proud. In the distance the market is winding to a close. Haggling over women and livestock is nearing completion and most are satisfied with the results of their bartering. Many of the women will wend their way down to the coast the next day to begin a new life providing food and sons for their new husbands.

The men begin to grow impatient, to make no kill and be forced to return to the market empty-handed will bring great shame upon them and their families. The previous night's boasts and wagers over hunting prowess now seem foolish. Already they have seen a pair of rivals heading home-wards with a stag carcass hung from a pole between their shoulders. To follow them with a lesser prize will bring as much shame as following them home empty-handed.

Short and stocky, one of the men drags tangles of matted hair away from his eyes and fingers the yew bow that lies on the ground behind him. A powerful weapon with a range of over sixty paces, it has done him proud before and he hopes it will again. However, they have chosen a poor hiding place this day. They have settled too close to the stone circle and pickings are scarcer here than over the hills to the west. He spares an irritated glance for his companion whose laziness has dictated that they wait in this spot. He sits back on his haunches and scans the forest, searching for the tell-tale movements of deer grazing the underbrush.

A flock of birds scatters, startled out of their roosting place and his eyes flick immediately to the undergrowth, searching patiently for a sign. Time passes slowly until he sees antlers peeking over low-lying shrub land. He sends up a bird whistle to alert his companion and together they sidle forwards, stomachs grazing the soil as they worm their way through the long grass. The deer continues to graze, antler tips bobbing slightly, blissfully unaware of the stalkers.

They split, as is common practice, one on either side of the grazing deer, both searching for a line of sight.He takes the left-hand side and makes his way towards the thicket where the deer waits. Brambles snag skin and clothing so he has to stop, impatiently, to untangle himself before he can move on again. The other hunter as brushed too heavily against a sapling and has disturbed a flock of birds who rise, screeching into the dusky sky. Both hunters freeze, frightened that the deer will spook and they will have lost their prize. They wait, fear of failure writ large in their minds and the birds circle overhead, calling danger before they settle gracefully back into the trees. The deer moves, restlessly but does not flee and both men send up silent thanks and return to the task in hand.

The hunter who scared the birds sends up a call indicating that he will wait in cover whilst the other spooks the deer and then shoot when it breaks cover. He sinks against the bole of a tree, drawing his bow and notching an arrow as he waits for the other to slowly worm his way around to the far side of the thicket.

The tracker has crept up behind the antlers and crouches, waiting for the signal to break cover and begin the hunt in earnest. A short time elapses before the signal comes, a long low whistle on the wind. He surges forward but, as he does so, something falls from his clothing and hits the ground with a thud. A strident, unexpected noise spills out into the forest and, rattled, the other hunter releases his arrow, it hits home and a squeal joins the shrill, incessant ringing that resounds around the trees. The tracker lets out a hoarse shout,

'Bill! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? You just shot an arrow into Danny, you pillock!'

The archer replies, ' What? Why is bloody Danny skulking in the shitting woods with antlers on his head? If your flippin' mobile hadn't gone off I wouldn't have shot anything at all.'

'Just shut up and 'phone for an ambulance will you, he's screaming like a pig over here.'

'Of course he is, he's just got an arrow stuck in his arse! I 'spose we're going to have to go to bloody Salisbury hospital now. And it's rush hour, we'll never get back before the disco starts in Stonehenge. The Boss is going to go bloody spare.'

'Well, that's your problem isn't it? Just ring the bloody hospital. I swear this is the last time I'm doing one of these re-enactment weekends with you. They're more trouble than they're bloody worth.'

'Yeh, yeh, ok. Can I borrow your mobile, my battery's dead? And shut Danny up will you, he's doing my head in, it's only an arrow in the arse for Christ's sake...'

'There you go, now bloody ring an ambulance.'

'...Yeh, ambulance please...Stonehenge...my friend's just been shot by a Neolithic yew bow from sixty paces...stone-tipped arrow...in the backside...yeh, twenty minutes will be ok...ok, can you ask the driver to pick up a pizza on the way, we;re starving...no? oh well, worth a try...'