A Calm Day.
The village was peaceful and serene in the early morning.
A thin layer of mist covered the entire area, and the scent of fresh grass and trees filled the damp air.
A gentle breeze passed through, bringing with it the chirping of birds and the soft rustle of leaves in the forest.
This was the sound Borne had grown up with, but today, as he stood at the door of his house, it all felt somewhat unfamiliar.
It had been a long time since he had woken up to such a morning.
His grandfather had already risen early and was busying himself in the yard.
Despite his advanced age, he was still full of energy, and his hands remained skillful and strong.
Especially when handling game, his movements were precise and swift.
At this moment, his grandfather was bent over, working on a piece of animal hide, quickly stitching together the torn parts of a wild boar pelt they had caught a few days ago.
Borne walked out of the small wooden house, looking up at the place where he and his grandfather had lived together for many years.
The cabin wasn't large, but it was filled with the warmth of home.
Hanging on the walls were a few ancestral hunting tools, and in the corner were some trophies from past hunts.
Bones, teeth, and horns—all carefully preserved by his grandfather.
Borne took a deep breath, feeling the fresh scent of the air mixed with the familiar smell of wood smoke.
The village mornings were always like this, quiet, as most people hadn't fully woken up from their dreams.
Only a few early risers could be seen leading their old donkeys through the village.
Occasionally, distant murmurs could be heard, mingled with the rustling of fallen leaves, creating the soundscape of the village at dawn.
He pulled his jacket tighter around himself; the morning chill was still evident.
The noise of the battlefield seemed far behind him now.
Borne knew he was no longer the scout he once was.
Now, he was just a retired soldier.
"Borne, come help me move this hay into the wood shed, and check if there's enough firewood while you're at it."
His grandfather's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Got it, Grandpa," Borne replied, slowly walking to the corner of the yard where a pile of hay lay.
He lifted a large bundle, and immediately, the wounds on his body sent sharp waves of pain through him.
Despite this, he gritted his teeth and continued, moving bundle after bundle into the wood shed.
The coarse, prickly hay rubbed against his arms, causing mild discomfort with each movement.
His grandfather watched, feeling a deep ache in his heart.
He quickly approached Borne, patting him on the shoulder and advising, "Take it easy, don't rush. You still need time to heal."
Borne nodded but didn't want to stop.
He knew his physical limits, but he didn't want to appear weak, especially not in front of his grandfather.
As a child, his grandfather always took him hunting in the forest, teaching him how to set traps and track animals.
Back then, Borne always pushed himself to the front, eager to prove his skills.
Now, even though his body was no longer as agile as before, he still refused to show any sign of weakness.
As the sunlight gradually pierced through the mist, bathing the yard in light, Borne's pace slowed.
The pain in his chest grew more pronounced, and beads of sweat began to form on his forehead.
He had to stop, wiping the sweat from his brow as he sat down on a stone stool near the shed, breathing heavily.
By now, the village had begun to come alive.
Thin streams of smoke rose into the sky.
In the distance, the sound of women drawing water from the well, the clucking of chickens, and the laughter of children playing echoed through the air.
The atmosphere of daily life had once again filled the small village.
His grandfather walked over, offering him a cup of water, speaking gently, "Take a break, don't wear yourself out."
Borne took the cup, nodding silently.
The coolness of the cup seeped into his hands, bringing him back to reality from his thoughts.
He took a sip of water, then set the cup down, his eyes turning to the distant forest.
This forest had been his playground as a child, and it was where he had honed his skills.
Borne still remembered the first time he followed his grandfather into the woods.
He had been a reckless child, running around excitedly, only to get lost.
His grandfather had patiently searched for him all night, finally finding him at dawn.
That experience taught Borne about the dangers of the forest and the responsibilities of a hunter.
Since then, he never let his guard down again.
Borne closed his eyes, as if he could see the young boy who used to follow his grandfather's footsteps.
That boy carried a small bow and arrow, clumsily learning how to draw the bow, aim, and silently track his prey.
His grandfather was always by his side, offering guidance and support, his tone serious but filled with patience and kindness.
As these memories flooded back, Borne felt a warmth inside.
Despite all the wars and pain he had endured, his grandfather's teachings remained deeply ingrained in his mind.
Now, back in this village, back with his grandfather, Borne felt as if he had regained a long-lost sense of peace and tranquility.
Just as he was lost in thought, his grandfather's voice came again.
"There are still a few hunting traps that need fixing.
Once you're rested, come and help me."
Borne opened his eyes, nodded, and stood up, following his grandfather to the small workshop next to the cabin.
Inside the workshop, various hunting tools were stored: crossbows, arrows, traps, ropes, and some homemade hunting contraptions.
Most of these tools were handmade by his grandfather.
Though simple, they were incredibly effective.
His grandfather placed a damaged trap on the table and began inspecting each part carefully.
Borne stood quietly by, watching his grandfather's hands at work.
At that moment, it felt as though he had returned to his childhood, watching his grandfather teach him the ways of hunting.
Though time had changed their appearances, the bond between them remained as strong as ever.
"Borne, hand me that wire," his grandfather said as he continued repairing the trap.
Borne quickly grabbed a piece of wire from the toolbox and handed it to him.
His grandfather took the wire, expertly twisting it with pliers before continuing to fix the other parts of the trap.
Every movement was filled with the confidence of years of experience.
His hands had long since become one with the tools he used.
After finishing the repair, his grandfather dusted off his hands and nodded in satisfaction.
He then turned to Borne and said, "Alright, that's enough work for today. Let's check if we need to trim any of the arrows."
Borne followed him to the corner, where several bundles of arrows were stored.
His grandfather picked up a bundle and carefully examined each arrowhead and shaft, making sure they were in good condition for the next hunt.
Borne helped as well.
He picked up an arrow, running his fingers lightly along the edge of the arrowhead, feeling the familiar sharpness.
"Are we going into the woods tomorrow?"