Son of a Hunter

9

The dawn's light fell upon his sleeping face. He tried valiantly to keep the dream that held him, the dream that held him in such bliss, the dream of the Wolves, so proud and true. The dream about the animal he had come to love and cherish. They were wild and fierce, yet cunning and organized. He slowly opened his eyes to see the glow of the sun in the sky, and smiled at the memory. Shrugging off his pajamas, he quickly dressed, trying to make sure he was clothed sufficiently before anyone awoke to notice. He had always been a early riser.

He put on his jogging clothes and walked outside. He began to run the perimeter of the camp. He loved to run. It was another of his great loves in life. The naturalness of it, the speed, the thrill of running someone down and taking him down in mock play was something he enjoyed deeply. He often ran when he hunted back home, and he had trained himself to do so almost completely silently, disturbing virtually nothing.

As he ran, he thought. Percy told one time during swim class that being in the water allowed him to think completely unmolested. Running was essentially the equivalent for Leon. As he ran, he thought. He thought about the hunts and camping trips he had come with his father on, He thought of the warmth and love his mother…mortal mother…had given him. He still considered her his mother, and by God…Gods…he always would.

And when he ran, he also thought back to lessons previously taught to him. He thought about how to properly understand his rifle, and treat it as well as he would treat himself. Always take care of your rifle Leon, his father told him. And it will take care of you.

But on this morning's run, a memory came upon him. So powerfully that he actually slowed pace slightly to focus upon it. He saw himself and his father in his workshop, with their stripped down hunting gear around them. And his father was teaching him the proper use of the camouflage suit.

"This is probably one of the best tools in hunter's arsenal Leon. A hunter's greatest weapon is surprise, ambush. The prey must never know you are there; otherwise it will immediately attempt to flee. You must never let it know your location, and you must not move any muscle more than absolutely necessary. The only movement that should do is to adjust your rifle and squeeze the trigger, nothing more. Surprise is your best ally…"

He stopped completely and realized what his father now truly meant. His mind went back to the future game against the hunters. He had observed that the campers who had imitated the hunters tactics had used the same techniques that hunters in the wild would use. They were hunters, after all. He did an about face and ran back to his cabin. Some of his cabin-mates were already up and about, and were surprised when he burst in and began to collect his armor.

The counselor approached him.

"Hey Leon, what are you doing? We haven't even had time to eat breakfast yet. Training doesn't start until afterward."

Leon did not heed his words. He simply asked him if they had any type of adhesive material, and possibly paints. The counselor told him to check the storage room in the big house. Leon ran out with his armor in his hands, campers staring at him all the way.

Leon found the paint in the storage room. He selected a mix of green and brown for his choices, and began to paint his armor, adding in a little black along the way. As he set it out to dry, he ran to the woods, and began to collect some of the greener leaves and the occasional grass. He returned to see his armor had suffiecently dried and began to carefully apply a adhesive material he had found to certain areas of his armor, then placing leaves in those parts. He finished a little after breakfast, and placed his armor on the ground next to his sleeping bag. He managed to grab a leftover piece of toast and munched on it until he went for archery and knife fighting practice. He needed to warm up this morning.