I open my eyes. The cool, familiar breeze of the forest brushes my face. The dirt and sticks press into my back. Above me the dark sky pokes through the leafy green cover. I slowly sit up and rub the sleep from my face. Careful not to make any bones pop, I sit up and stretch. Quietly I stand and begin tracking my food for the day. My oiled boots like cats paws on the dry earth and the crackly leaves.
I slide my knife from my belt and grip it in my hands as I go to my snares. With luck I find a squirrel trapped in one. I skin it and gut it, carefully putting the parts in a thick pouch for later. I start a small fire and cook the squirrel by holding it over the fire. When I am done eating I pack away everything and begin moving a gain. Out here you must always move. If you stop for to long then you will die.
I trot on the balls of my feet. I take a short stop every hour or so and drink from a pouch. Soon I reach a lake. I check my underwater traps and finding nothing, replace them with more bait, the remains of the squirrel. On the way I see another squirrel but I do not catch it. I pick some blackberries off a bush and eat them as I trot.
The moon high in the sky, I start looking for a place to sleep. As I am clearing a spot deep in the foliage, I hear the howls of the wolves. Bracing one foot behind me I throw back my head and howl with them. Soon the 10 or 11 howls meld together to make a beautiful harmony. When we are finished, I finish clearing, and lay down to sleep.
It has been many years now since I chose to leavee civilization. Taking only a knife and my belt, as well as my knowledge, I ran to the woods, and here I live to this day.
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