(A start of a short story for adults)
1812
As the midnight hour came and the moon fell below the tops of the trees a figure, unseen in the shadows, slowly crept to a quiet cabin. All was dark inside the cabin and the rustle of the leaves in the slight breeze lent a feeling of calm to the scene. The figure came ever closer as a gleam of metal flashed for a second in his hand. Stepping up to the small window he tried to see in but it was dark inside and he could not make out anything or see any movement. He tilted his head to one side but could not hear any noise from within the cabin. He turned and stepped to the front door grasping the wooden handle lightly. Turning it slowly he pushed the door slightly open. It creaked a little so he stopped. He waited a few seconds then hearing nothing from within he moved the door all the way in. He stepped into the doorway while holding his weapon in his left hand. At that second there was a flash followed by a loud bang.
***
The water in the lake sparkled under the glare of the morning sun as it rose above the tree tops. Fish picked at the insects that were floating on the surface of the lake. Off in the distance deer were just coming to the shoreline to drink the fresh water. The call of the many birds got louder as they too awoke to the new day. It looked like it was going to be another day of tranquility in the forest. Nestled in a small blanket that almost covered him laid John Clayton. It had been a brutal winter and John was glad that spring was here with it's warming days and not too cool nights.
As John slowly began to wake up he could hear the birds and the rustle of small animals in the brush going about their daily routines. He knew that if he heard those sounds that there was no danger nearby. If those sounds were not there then he could guess that some danger might be at hand. He opened his eyes and looked up at the tree tops swaying in the light breeze. It was good to be alive in the forest he thought to himself. John got up and busied himself with the morning chores like washing up and getting something to eat from his back pack. Beef jerky and lake water to wash it down was his usual breakfast. When he was done he got up and brushed off his buckskin pants, swung his pack on his back and with rifle in hand walked away from the lake and into the forest.
Hunger came to him about midday and his store of jerky was almost gone so John began to track a deer whose trail he spotted not far from the water's edge. He knew he was close so he got around to the front of the deer up wind so that his scent was not noticed. John was so quiet that the only noise one could hear was the leaves blowing in the slight breeze. About two miles from the camp that John had spent the night in he saw the deer coming toward him. As he moved into position he raised his rifle and took careful aim at the buck. He noticed that he was an older deer and was not to worried that he had a mate somewhere nearby. Just as he started to squeeze the trigger he heard a twig snap behind him and without hesitation swung around quickly pointing his rifle at a new target. "Hold on there John." A voice came from behind some foliage. "It's me Tom, Thomas Kingsly." John spun around again to face the deer but he was long gone, just as soon as Thomas spoke. "Tom, you cost me my dinner for the next week." Said John. "Don't fret John. I have enough jerky in my pack for both of us for at least a week." Said Thomas. John came over to Thomas and the two shook hands then embraced, pounding each other on the back.
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