I woke before the sun rose, and arose from my bed quietly and backed my bag with the necessary provisions for my journey to the lonely mountain. I returned to my bedside table momentarily and eyes the hunting knife that father had given me the gold wolves head seemed to grin mockingly at me taunting what I was about to do, shaking my head to clear the doubts that filled my mind I hurriedly shoved it in my bag and quietly hoisted the bag to my back and tightened the straps to a comfortable pressure. I paused once again looking at the sleeping form of my mother and father her face always bore a look of worry and his always stoic and unchanged as if carved from stone, they could never understand my thirst for adventure they could never accept it, that's why I need to do this.