annet-50331903 @annet-50331903
The forest was dark and quiet. The only sound being the distant howling of wolves. It was a place where I had grown up with my family in a secluded cabin deep within the woods. We were always careful to not make any noise while out hunting, so as to not scare away our prey. My father would often tell me stories about how he used to hunt these very woods when he was a young man, just like me now. He said it was a place of endless possibility, where anything could happen at any moment.
I remember walking through the forest with my brother one day, feeling free and wild. We were both about 10 years old and had no care in the world. Our parents would sometimes get worried when we'd stay out too long, but they knew these woods like the back of their hand. They'd know exactly where to find us if anything went wrong.
As I got older, I started going on hunting trips with my father more often. He taught me everything he knew about tracking and killing prey in the forest. It was a great way for us to bond together as a family. My brother would sometimes join us, but he always seemed a bit too eager to get close to the action. My father would laugh it off saying "He's still learning" but I think he just wanted an excuse not to let his son get hurt.
