"Gotta be real still now." The man grey and worn whispered as he fell to the Forrest floor in an awkward, creaky way.
"Why?" The boy, twelve years old, all limbs and dark skin asked, even though he knew the answer.
"Cause you'll scare the game." He stated.
"Why are they scared?" Asked the boy.
"Because we're the predator." replied the man.
"What's a predator?" Asked the boy as he settled into the mossy ferns.
"The Eater, not the Eaten." Replied the man quietly.
"So...we're the predator for the quale, but the -"
"Prey." filled in the father.
"but we're the prey for Walkers?" He asked, deep dark eyes looking over at him.
"Yop." he said, nodding.
"That don't seem right..." Muttered the boy.
"It ain't."
"Why ain't it?" asked the boy.
"Just ain't."
"Oh."
The two were silent for a long time, The dark skinned boy and the blue eyed goat of a man.
"Why is the sky blue?" the boy asked, tilting his head up to meet the man's eyes.
"Light from the sun comes down," He wiggled his fingers in the air, to make the point.
"gets broken up by the gasses in the air from the ocean, the gasses make a prism of sort, breaks it all up. Makes it look blue." replied the man evenly.
"Oh." the boy was silent for a moment. "Then why is the ocean blue?"
"Cause the sky's blue." Replied the man.
"You seen the ocean?"
"Yop."
"What's it look like?"
"Like a big asslake."
"Oh."
"mmmhmmm..."
All around them, the forrest was alive.
It was alive with the sound of birds, and of critters and sunlight and leaves and wind.
The air was fresh and bright. And glorious in only the way a new spring could bring.
See that there?" The father asked several minutes later, whispering and pointing to the horizon.
"Yeaaah..." Drawled the boy.
"Really? huh... well, what is it I'm lookin' at then?" the father asked, his brows crinkling in mirth.
"Trees? You love trees." Replied the boy, quick as ever.
"No... No boy. I ain't lookin' at no trees." He sighed. "Now open your eyes and look where I'm pointing."
The boy did as told, ahead of them there was a bush of a tail. a slight gold in the sunset.
"OH! I-" the boy started out in glee, only to have a hand clamped over his mouth.
"Sfowerrydferl." came the muffled whisper.
"You gon'shutup?" He asked.
"Yop." Replied the boy as the hand was taken away from his mouth.
"Good. Now, set up the bow, that's right." He watched as the boy did as he was told.
"Get him in your sights." And when that was done, the man wrapped his arms around the boy, protecting him from the recoil (even though there wasn't all that much and the boys strong arms and sinewy muscle could handle it)
"Take a deep breath-" The boy did as told.
"and let it out..." The boy did that as well.
"And-" with a great TWACK the bolt went whistling through the air, spinning as it landed upon the fat squirrel's skull and it fell towards the earth.
"I DID IT! I DID IT DADDY!" Shouted the boy.
"I know.. I know you did son. Now. Quit your shouting 'for the rest run off." He said in a growl that had about as much harshness in it as a butterfly landing on a daisy stem.
"Yussir." Was the boys reply as he nodded fervently.
"What now?" Asked the boy.
"What do you think?" Asked the man.
"If you hit it, Go an' git it?" Asked the boy with a grin.
"Damn right." Said the man.
"Tiptoes now. No crackin' and thumpin'."
"Yussir." Replied the boy as the bow was set down gingerly and respectfully before he was darting through the Forrest, his hand on the knife at his side.
The man was fifty two by now. No where near the silent, deadly hunter he once had been.
That had ended years ago. (though, he took great pride in the fact he could still sneak up and scare the bajeezus out of his wife)
But he would teach his boy. Teach him like his granddaddy had before.
Teach him how'ta be silent. How to blend in. How to hunt with the grace of the Cherokee and Chippawah. To be silent and unheard.