Notes from the Hunt

This feels like old times.

In more ways than you can know. The days of rising in the frigid cold, breath blown in front of our faces, waiting for that glimmer of red. The silence, all but the beating heart. Only this time I’m not related. Just a bystander, included but not part of this game. It might seem odd here but it isn’t if you know where things come from. I’m a world away now, just doing my thing, but part of me knows the door is open if I want to venture back. Not sure who will be there waiting for me, but not knowing is okay for now.

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