Birch The boy stepped through lit trees and cast shadows and his boots made a familiar thud with each step. The treads of his boots were heavy and supported his ankles with stiff leather uppers. The annual fall of leaves and the ensuing decomposing thatch created layers and pockets of air, making the impact of his steps resonate like a slow drum beat. All around, the patchwork of flakey white bark of the birch trees stood like tall skinny pillars of light dotting their way across the brown earth. The Birchwood Forest glimmered in the morning sun as low clouds crept in over the treetops. Light sneaked through from the east and the shallow slanted rays of morning light complimented the chill in the air as it hit the muted forest floor. His name was Hunter, and he stood silent among the tree lined path listening for clues. He felt like his boots were too heavy and overdone and that his steps were loud and might give away his position. He stood quietly and listened for any indication that the beast was beyond the Birchwood Forest. He tightened the straps on his backpack and moved on. The drum beat of his boots picked up their pace. The length of the shadows suggested it was still early but Hunter was feeling defeated and hungry. Time moved fast, and Hunter did as well, scanning the forest in all directions.
