Morning Hunt

The early morning air was cool and crisp, carrying with it the earthy scent of dew-soaked leaves.

Luke sprinted through the forest, his breath coming in steady puffs, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the thick layer of moss underfoot.

The pale light of dawn barely broke through the dense canopy above, casting the woods in a muted twilight.

This was the perfect time to hunt.

Luke's eyes darted from tree to tree, his senses sharp and attuned to the faintest rustle of leaves or snap of twigs.

He had volunteered for this task, wanting to prove himself. He wasn't just a kid who needed protection anymore — he could contribute, and hunting was as good a way as any to show it.

The forest was alive with potential threats, from smaller creatures that posed no danger to predators that could easily turn the tables if he let his guard down.

But it wasn't just survival that brought Luke out here; it was the challenge, the thrill of the hunt.