Lark, age nine, was learning how to fire a bow. Of course, this was not the first time he was shooting one, but it was the first time he was firing one that actually could do some damage. As such, his father was showing him through all the steps all over again.

“Make sure to only aim at something you're willing to destroy”

“Don’t take a shot you’re not certain will kill. We have plenty of time, so always be sure when you fire. Unnecessary suffering is inevitable, eventually something is going to happen outside your expectations or control, but minimizing that chance is important.”

“Always make sure you know what’s behind your target. God forbidding you miss your shot, you don’t want to hit poor old Mrs. Jenkins on her evening hike.”

Those were some of the basic rules that his father instilled in him, luckily, they were simple and few.

For the more technical side of shooting, the part where you actually fire the bow, that was less simple.

“Hey, your feet are too close together. Make sure your stance is stable”

“Don’t flinch when you fire, the bow doesn’t bite”

“You can’t hold the bow drawn forever. At some point, you actually have to fire, son.”

This continued on for weeks, mostly target practice after the first, until finally…

“I think you’ve gotten good enough to actually test your new toy out!”

“Hey! Weren’t you the one who told me to not treat this like a toy, like explicitly?”

“Do as I say, not as I do. Now, do you want to actually bag some game or not?”

Lark, with his most confident smile, said, “Of course!”

“Good! I like the enthusiasm! Especially since this time, you're on your own.”

“Wait, what?” Lark said, more confused than shocked.

“Tradition, son. From my father, and his father before him. Your first hunt must always be alone.”

“But why? I mean, doesn’t it make more sense for you to be there in case I mess up?”

“Do you think you’re going to mess up? We can always practice more if you’re unsure.”

“No! No! I’ll be fine!” Lark said before his father could even finish his sentence. The past three months had been nothing but practice, and Lark thought his shoulders might give out if he continued on.

“Good, because the hunt starts now! Good luck!”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Before Lark could even question his father, he had already run away, silent as a ghost.

Well, no time like the present, as they say. Lark gathered his courage and set off into the woods. He immediately noticed the difference without his father. The woods felt more… wild. He was less assured of his safety.

He observed his surroundings, like he had every day for the past nine years, and saw nothing out of the ordinary. It was a cool autumn day, and that made hunting much harder. Leaves of varying shades littered the ground, making a kaleidoscope of color, and more importantly, sound. One step, trip, fall, or crack, and everything within twelve-hundred feet would be on edge.

They might not run, but their guard would be up. Not to mention that camo hadn’t been invented yet. Who would have guessed that camo patterns were a modern invention? Certainly not Lark, but when he asked his father about them, he just looked at Lark strangely. The most effective camo these people had was just wearing green. That sucked to learn. Camo kicks ass for hunting. Maybe he could introduce it?

Get back on track!

So, it was very important to not be spotted. Funnily enough, It was also very hard to not be spotted. Most prey had eyes that could see in a three-hundred-degree radius around them at least, and that meant the only way to get close and not get spotted was to get in their very small blind spot.

For modern hunters, this was not an issue. Camo, as mentioned before, kicks ass. It broke up your profile and made you much harder to spot in the woods, and that's not even mentioning that with rifles you get a way larger range. Of course, camo came with the disadvantage of being much harder to spot by other humans as well, but that was solved with ease. Apparently, deer can’t see the color orange. Well, it solved the problem for deer hunters at least.

Damn it, I got distracted again!

CRACK

Lark quickly turned to his left, only to see a badger running away. Taking a few deep breaths, Lark slowed his quickly beating heart.

You’ve got this, man. We’ve gone through these woods a million times. Well, I guess it’s not ‘we’ this time, is it? Get your head in the game, it’s time to move.

Taking all of his training to heart, he started silently stalking through the forest. Avoiding leaves was important, and not just for the obvious reasons either, but because while he could go through them quietly, it was much harder, and he had to move much slower. As he moved, his heart stilled, and his anxiety started to drain away. His thoughts turned toward his goal, and he began looking for tracks. There were signs of animals passing through everywhere, but the hard part was finding something recent.

After an hour of searching, he finally found some fresh droppings, and a trail leading away from them. Carefully skulking after them, he made sure to keep his perception open. He glanced at the surrounding wood with his peripheral vision, knowing that it was better at spotting movement. Gently, he followed its trail through the forest, it couldn’t have been far now. Less than a mile away, at most.

There!

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a deer munching on some lichen. He quickly stilled his breath and began to ready his shot. It was roughly sixty yards out, and ready to move at any moment. Easy enough, Lark just had to give it less than a moment to run.

Taking his stance, readying his shot, and slowing his breath, Lark held… then fired! The arrow flew through the air on a direct path, soaring through the air with practiced accuracy. But not once did Lark take his eyes off of his target, he had to have faith that his practice would be enough. Bam! Right in the lung!

Quickly, the deer ran off into the thicket, but Lark knew it was already too late. There was a blood trail, and the deer wasn’t being subtle in its rush to get away.

Before he realized it, he had already reached the deer. It was in the middle of a clearing, laying on its side, and all of a sudden this became much more real. His heart froze in his chest, and he stopped for a moment. It let out a weak bleat and turned to look him in his direction. It made a pathetic attempt at fleeing once more but just ended up kicking its legs in the air.

Before he realized it, his training kicked in, and he was already moving toward it. Standing above it, he took out his knife and lined it up with her heart. The doe let out a pained bleat but was too weak to run away.

“I’m sorry, I’ll make sure not to waste even an inch of what you’ve given me”

Then he pushed the knife into her heart, and with a final pained whine, she was gone.

Lark felt… conflicted. On one hand, the hunt was thrilling, but on the other, he really didn’t enjoy killing. He supposed that this must be the reason the hunt was solo. So that he would fully experience the joys and sorrows without constantly looking over his shoulder for approval, and missing the whole point.

His father walked out from the brush, then.

“Beautifully done, kiddo. How do you feel?”

“I… I don’t feel great.”

“That’s normal for your first hunt, son. It would be concerning if you did.” Henry said with a somber smile.

“But that’s the price we pay for living off the land, and after a while, you learn that you're only one part of the cycle.”

“Ah, the circle of life.” Lark said with a smile, remembering his favorite Disney film.

“That’s an amazing way to put it, son.” Said Henry, with a proud smile.

“I suppose it is.”

They stood there for a second in silence, just letting the sounds of the forest wash over them.

“So, are you going to make good on your promise to use every part of this animal? If so, we should start sooner rather than later.”