Something crunched and rustled off in the distance, faint under the song of the crickets in the brush. Mason enjoyed the quiet, glanced at his watch occasionally, examined the forest around him. It was beautiful for sure, like someplace out of a movie. Vivid and serene. The periodic movement in the undergrowth got louder as time went on and a soft grunt came from Mason’s right. As he stood and turned, Jack’s dusty self came into view with a sack slung over his shoulder and a bow tight in his weathered left hand.
The man was like a wary wolf, slow and poised to run by the look in his eyes, the grip on his bow tight until his knuckles blanched. Mason did what he could to show his intentions. He took it easy standing, almost lazy as he straightened and loosened the kink out of his back from
