Trent looked up from the crackling fire before him. He had been living at the sorry campsite for three days. Since he had got there, the little campsite had become littered with twigs, firewood, and the pile of items that were his belongings. He looked out past the fire to the edge of the campground, where a wall of dark and haunting trees stood, which signalled the edge of the forest.

He sighed, it had been a long day getting ready for what was to come tonight. He had made sure the fire was put out, and the ashes and coal strewn around to make his presence there less obvious, he had moved all the firewood he had gathered away from the campsite and into the forest and put all the tinder into his tinderbox, and he had even built himself a small shelter incase he got himself into trouble and needed a place to hide.

He got tired of sitting around and waiting so he got up and started walking around to pack his belongings back into his pack so he could leave in a hurry if he had to. As he got underway he heard a distant rustling and he immediately dropped to the ground and fell silent. The rustleing started getting louder and louder until a small rabbit bounded out into the clearing and started eating the long grass at the edge of the campsite. Trent’s started breathing again. He got up and looked at the sky.

“Dusk,” he said, “time for the hunt.”