After a day of preparation, the grandfather and grandson decided to enter the forest at dawn to begin their hunt.
At that moment, Borne was checking his equipment, while his grandfather leisurely lit his pipe.
"How's the preparation going?" the grandfather asked, exhaling a puff of smoke.
"Yes, all ready," Borne replied, organizing his tools and slinging his bow and arrows over his shoulder.
"Well, then, let's head out."
The shadows of the trees stretched long under the rising sun, dew shimmering, and the air filled with the moist scent of fresh grass.
Borne closed his eyes for a moment as a wave of memories flooded his mind.
When he was younger, he always ran ahead of his grandfather, eager to prove himself.
But his grandfather never rushed, always calm and composed, his eyes full of wisdom and experience.
Whenever Borne grew impatient to act, his grandfather would gently remind him, "Hunting is not just a test of strength, but a game of patience."
Those words still echoed clearly in his ears today.
"Grandpa, where are we hunting today?"
Borne asked, snapping out of his thoughts and turning to face his grandfather.
"Let's head deeper into the woods and check on the traps we set before, remember?
That spot is where the deer and wild boar often pass through."
The old man carried a worn-out bow on his back and held a small bag full of tools.
Borne nodded in agreement.
His body ached faintly, though the wounds had healed, his agility had never returned to its peak.
He raised his arm, trying to grip the bow in his hand but felt that his strength wasn't what it once was.
His grandfather noticed his hesitation and gently patted him on the shoulder, reassuring him.
"Don't rush it, recovery takes time. It's like hunting—the more you rush, the easier it is to make mistakes."
They walked slowly along the forest path, surrounded by tall, dense trees.
Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the leaves, casting dappled patches of light on the ground.
Walking through this familiar woodland, Borne felt as if he had traveled back in time.
He recalled the many times he had accompanied his grandfather here, tracking prey and setting traps.
His grandfather's steady figure always led the way, like a rock, while Borne, impatient and eager, followed behind.
"Do you remember the first time you came hunting with me?" his grandfather asked with a smile.
Borne nodded, a faint smile crossing his face as well.
"Of course I do. I was only eight, carrying a bow heavier than I was.
I didn't walk far before I tripped and almost broke it."
His grandfather laughed heartily.
"I sent you chasing after a rabbit, and you ended up face-first in a mud pit.
That rabbit even stopped to look at you before running off, like it was laughing at you."
Borne chuckled, a glint of nostalgia in his eyes.
"Yes, it was then I realized hunting wasn't just about strength and speed. It also took patience and skill."
His grandfather nodded approvingly, gazing at him with pride.
"You learned fast, Borne. Soon, you were quicker than anyone, setting traps more skillfully each time. Wild boars, deer, foxes—there wasn't an animal that could escape your grasp."
They continued forward, their feet sinking into the soft soil, the occasional crunch of dry leaves underfoot.
As they ventured deeper into the forest, the atmosphere grew increasingly still.
Only the occasional chirp from a bird broke the silence, adding to the tranquility of the moment.
Borne glanced around at the familiar surroundings.
Everything looked the same, yet somehow different.
He had returned, but he was no longer the eager, spirited youth. Instead, he was a seasoned veteran, scarred by the trials of war.
"Do you remember this forest?" his grandfather's voice broke through his thoughts.
"We used to hunt here all the time when you were little."
Borne nodded, memories of countless hunts with his grandfather flooding back.
They would spend entire days tracking prey, setting traps, and waiting for their targets to fall into place.
This forest wasn't just a source of livelihood; it had been a witness to Borne's growth.
He remembered one time when they encountered a massive wild boar, standing at two meters tall, its tusks sharp as blades.
Borne, still young at the time, had panicked and missed his shot, almost getting gored by the beast.
It was his grandfather who had remained calm, firing an arrow that struck the boar's throat, saving Borne's life.
"You must always stay calm, no matter what happens," Borne remarked, his voice full of respect for the lesson learned that day.
"Exactly. The more urgent the situation, the more you need to keep your cool," his grandfather responded with a gentle smile.
Before they knew it, they had ventured deep into the forest.
The trees here were taller, thicker, and the sunlight barely filtered through the dense canopy above.
Grandfather came to a stop, pointing ahead to a small clearing.
"That's where we used to set traps. Let's see if we've caught anything."
As they approached the clearing, Borne's sharp eyes spotted several faint footprints on the ground.
He crouched down to inspect them more closely and realized that they were fresh, likely made only a short while ago.
His grandfather crouched beside him, touching the soil lightly before nodding.
"It was probably here last night. Could be a deer."
Borne's heart leaped with excitement. Despite his injuries, the thrill of the hunt was still alive in him, the anticipation stirring something deep within.
Borne followed his grandfather as they inspected the nearby traps, only to find that one had been triggered but was empty.
Grandfather frowned as he stood up.
"Looks like the prey got away, but at least we know there are animals moving nearby."
They continued along the trail of footprints, making sure to move quietly and not make a sound.
As they ventured deeper into the forest, Borne felt the air grow more tense, a subtle shift in the atmosphere surrounding them.
Suddenly, Grandfather halted and raised his hand, signaling Borne to stop as well.
"Over there," he whispered. "Do you see that thicket?"
Borne followed his grandfather's gaze and spotted it—a massive figure among the dense foliage not far away. It was a giant elk, far larger than any deer Borne had ever seen.
Its antlers spread wide like branches, covered in thick moss that made it blend seamlessly into the forest.
Its smooth, glossy coat gleamed in the dappled sunlight, and its eyes were calm, unaware that hunters were so close.
Borne held his breath as he slowly raised his bow, carefully aiming at the elk. But just as he was about to pull the string, a sharp pain shot through his chest.
His hand trembled, nearly causing the arrow to slip from his fingers. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the pain clouded his focus.
Grandfather noticed his struggle and spoke softly.
"Don't rush. Relax. Let it come to you."
Borne nodded, trying to calm his racing thoughts as he waited for the right moment.