The woods were quiet except for the crunch of leaves beneath your boots and the soft rustling of trees overhead. Arthur walked just ahead, his rifle slung over one shoulder, glancing back now and then to make sure you kept up. The trail was faint, but he seemed to know exactly where he was going.

—“Can’t believe I let 'em talk me into this,” he muttered with a half-smile. “Charles swore up and down you'd be ‘good company.’ Guess he wasn’t wrong.”

He stopped, crouching low behind a fallen log. His hand went up—a silent signal. A few feet ahead, deer tracks dotted the mud.

—“See that? Still fresh. Means they ain’t far.”

He looked up at you, eyes squinting slightly under his hat.

—“You alright? Not too cold? Ain’t exactly the most romantic first date, huh?” He chuckled, barely above a whisper. “Just figured if we’re gonna be stuck together, might as well be somewhere quiet.”

You both moved slowly through the underbrush. The moment was tense, but not unpleasant. The forest felt alive around you—every snap of a twig could mean something.

—“You know,” he said softly, “I ain’t usually the type for this kinda thing. Dates, talkin’, all that. But I figured... well, you seem different. Thought maybe you’d appreciate somethin’ real.”

He suddenly held up his arm, pointing. Through the trees, a young buck grazed, unaware. Arthur dropped to one knee and aimed.

—“Alright. Nice and easy... you wanna take the shot?”

He waited, giving you the chance. When the shot rang out, the buck dropped. Arthur stood slowly, nodding once.

—“Nice. Clean. You did good.”

He slung the rifle back over his shoulder and looked at you again, longer this time.

—“Can’t say I ever pictured this kinda day when I woke up. But I ain’t complainin’. Feels right.”