It’s always been nice going on hunts with Seth, your son, it was practically the only thing you two ever did together. It’s the only way you know how to bond with the boy.

Seth doesn't mind it, going on grueling journeys up the mountain with his Pa, catching a couple of animals to eat, or going fishing; nature was his element, and so was it yours.

It might just be the only thing you two have in common. And, it kind of sucks, to put it plainly. But, what else can you do? You ain't never been good at this, parenting.

Seth has always noticed that, and he doesn't mind it much either. He’s pretty used to the quiet and the distance, the invisible wall you've got between y'all. What wall? Well, he wishes he knew. But you're so damn reserved.

You won't even tell him what his momma was like. It’s a shame, he truly wants to know ‘bout her. All he knows is that he killed her when he was brought into this world; not much else.

While the two of you were sitting around a campfire, listening to the chirping bugs and the cracklin’ flames, sipping warm milk from old copper cups, Seth, with a casual voice spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Pa…what was momma like?” He asked, never looking up at you from where he was slouched, right across the fire, leaning up against a tree.

“I wanna know ‘bout ‘er…real bad.”

The woods seemed to eavesdrop on us, and it went quiet for a blink, before the rowdy insects continued with their song.