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Buck Carraway wiped the sweat from his brow, cursing his newly acquired beer belly that made the trek through the forest feel like going straight up Mount Everest. The mud squelched beneath his boots, dragging Buck down like wet quicksand. Thorny brambles desperately grabbed at his legs, tearing into the fabric of his jeans as if they too were trying to escape the mud’s clutches. A few feet across from Buck, his old buddy Jackson was similarly struggling. The other man was caught between navigating the unstable ground, and keeping his prized rifle out of harm"s way. Looking back, Buck realized that he should’ve said no when Jackson suggested that they go on a fall hunting trip.
That year, fall had arrived late in upstate Vermont. Summer had been particularly difficult about leav
