That gory tear in her shoulder is where an arrow went in. An equally gory hole on the other side of her chest is where it came out. She walked with her head down, glancing fearfully into trees, wary of another hunter in a deer blind.
My neighbor didn't expect the doe to make it through the winter, as her wound oozed and her skin hung in a raw flap. The other deer tried to drive her away. But by spring she was still there, beginning to heal. Two years later, she roams our area with the same deer herd, often hanging a little apart with another doe when I see her.
Maybe she really does have some hard-to-kill terminator parts. Or maybe just an indomitable will to live.