A Hunting Trip
In the soft, pale dirt were two sets of prints: one deep-soled hiking boots and the other animal. Speckled in the dirt, red against brown, was a dotted trail of blood. A man of domineering stature looked closely at the path ahead. He stood tall and still and silent, the only movement coming from the soft rise and fall of his chest. In the middle of the forest, he stood, hunting rifle in hand and the brim of his hat shadowing his face. A stone statue, frozen, slowly growing moss for millennia.