November 13, 2160
The house is as quiet as a tomb. Not a good thought on the day I’m hunting on a supposedly haunted
island.
I
shudder at the chill that runs through my body; haunted or not,
I ’ m hunting that island and I ’ m coming back with a
boatload of meat.
As quietly as I can, I grab my rifle, my
bow, and double-check my pack. Plenty of ammo? Check. Arrows, extra
nocks, tips and quiver? Check. First-aid kit? Check.
I pause as I pass my brother’s room, and
then move on quickly before he notices I’m leaving. He was upset
when he found out I wasn’t taking him on this trip. I used the “too
dangerous” excuse, and in all fairness, it’s true, but I really
just needed to get away from his incessant chatter. There’s only so
much a guy can take.
Mom’s got it in her head that I’m not
“social” enough. That I need to spend more time with kids my age
and, better yet, get a girlfriend.
“A nice, pretty girl from a good family,”
she keeps saying.
Right. It’s not that I don’t want a
girlfriend, just that they usually want things I don’t want to
give. Like time. And attention. Besides, I learned long ago that
friends are more dangerous than enemies.
On my way to the door, I stop when I see a
package on the kitchen table with a note.
Just a few things for your trip.
I’m so glad you’re finally spending time
with friends!
Don’t worry about us; we’ll be fine while
you’re gone.
Tristan will get over it.
Have fun and be careful.
Mom
Grinning, I tuck the bag into my pack. I
know what’s inside -- the same thing she’s made every time I go on
long hunts: cookies. She knows it’s just about the only thing I
can’t get in the Outlands.
Except this time, I’m not going to the
Outlands. But if Mom knew where I was going, she’d never let me
go.
I automatically glance up above the door as
I walk out and press my fingers to my lips, then to the picture
hanging there. Just like I do every time I leave, though today, I
only hope he understands why I had to lie to mom about where I’m
going.
Dad’s been gone eight years. Mom says he was
killed in the Outlands on a hunting trip, which left only me, the
only one skilled enough to hunt, to take care of the family. But I
know better.
With a sigh, I look to the sky as I make my
way to the beach on the other side of the cove to wait for my
hunting partner. The stars are all gone and the moon has set, but
the sun won’t be up for another hour or so. The crickets have long
ceased their songs and the birds aren’t stirring yet.
It’s the perfect time of day.
No one will see us sneak our way over to the
island, which is why we’re leaving now; we’re not exactly supposed
to go there. Because it’s “haunted.”
I don’t believe that. I do believe, however,
in all the fresh game I’m sure flourishes over there. It’s ripe for
hunting and I plan to come back with so much meat that my family,
and Conn’s, won’t have to worry about food for a long time.
I’m not going to let a few ghost stories get
in my way.
Footsteps in the sand pull me from my
thoughts and I glance over to see Connor making his way toward
me.
He’s not my normal hunting partner. Usually
it’s no one or, if I want company, Tristan. But with the possible
danger of the island, I needed someone I knew could take care of
himself -- who could also make sure I didn’t end up dead like my
dad. My family would starve if I disappeared, too.
Conn has been hunting for as long as I have.
We used to go out as kids with our fathers. Besides me, he’s
probably the best hunter our village has. He’s also the only other
person besides Tristan and my mom that I trust.
He stops next to me, peering out over the
water to the island, shading his dark eyes with his hand. “You sure
about this?”
“What?” I grin at him. “You’re not telling
me that you’re scared of a teeny tiny island.”
He snorts and tugs his pack higher on his
back. “How we gettin’ over
The house is as quiet as a tomb. Not a good thought on the day I’m hunting on a supposedly haunted
island.
I
shudder at the chill that runs through my body; haunted or not,
I ’ m hunting that island and I ’ m coming back with a
boatload of meat.
As quietly as I can, I grab my rifle, my
bow, and double-check my pack. Plenty of ammo? Check. Arrows, extra
nocks, tips and quiver? Check. First-aid kit? Check.
I pause as I pass my brother’s room, and
then move on quickly before he notices I’m leaving. He was upset
when he found out I wasn’t taking him on this trip. I used the “too
dangerous” excuse, and in all fairness, it’s true, but I really
just needed to get away from his incessant chatter. There’s only so
much a guy can take.
Mom’s got it in her head that I’m not
“social” enough. That I need to spend more time with kids my age
and, better yet, get a girlfriend.
“A nice, pretty girl from a good family,”
she keeps saying.
Right. It’s not that I don’t want a
girlfriend, just that they usually want things I don’t want to
give. Like time. And attention. Besides, I learned long ago that
friends are more dangerous than enemies.
On my way to the door, I stop when I see a
package on the kitchen table with a note.
Just a few things for your trip.
I’m so glad you’re finally spending time
with friends!
Don’t worry about us; we’ll be fine while
you’re gone.
Tristan will get over it.
Have fun and be careful.
Mom
Grinning, I tuck the bag into my pack. I
know what’s inside -- the same thing she’s made every time I go on
long hunts: cookies. She knows it’s just about the only thing I
can’t get in the Outlands.
Except this time, I’m not going to the
Outlands. But if Mom knew where I was going, she’d never let me
go.
I automatically glance up above the door as
I walk out and press my fingers to my lips, then to the picture
hanging there. Just like I do every time I leave, though today, I
only hope he understands why I had to lie to mom about where I’m
going.
Dad’s been gone eight years. Mom says he was
killed in the Outlands on a hunting trip, which left only me, the
only one skilled enough to hunt, to take care of the family. But I
know better.
With a sigh, I look to the sky as I make my
way to the beach on the other side of the cove to wait for my
hunting partner. The stars are all gone and the moon has set, but
the sun won’t be up for another hour or so. The crickets have long
ceased their songs and the birds aren’t stirring yet.
It’s the perfect time of day.
No one will see us sneak our way over to the
island, which is why we’re leaving now; we’re not exactly supposed
to go there. Because it’s “haunted.”
I don’t believe that. I do believe, however,
in all the fresh game I’m sure flourishes over there. It’s ripe for
hunting and I plan to come back with so much meat that my family,
and Conn’s, won’t have to worry about food for a long time.
I’m not going to let a few ghost stories get
in my way.
Footsteps in the sand pull me from my
thoughts and I glance over to see Connor making his way toward
me.
He’s not my normal hunting partner. Usually
it’s no one or, if I want company, Tristan. But with the possible
danger of the island, I needed someone I knew could take care of
himself -- who could also make sure I didn’t end up dead like my
dad. My family would starve if I disappeared, too.
Conn has been hunting for as long as I have.
We used to go out as kids with our fathers. Besides me, he’s
probably the best hunter our village has. He’s also the only other
person besides Tristan and my mom that I trust.
He stops next to me, peering out over the
water to the island, shading his dark eyes with his hand. “You sure
about this?”
“What?” I grin at him. “You’re not telling
me that you’re scared of a teeny tiny island.”
He snorts and tugs his pack higher on his
back. “How we gettin’ over
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