Gape’s Chronicles: Strings and Stones

Two days until my time with the hunters.
I sat around the small fire at the center of the hut. My hands repeated the simple motion I would become far too familiar with in the coming years. As the strands danced in my fingertips, I contemplated a future as a hunter. The sense of adventure. The freedom from modern tasks like splitting wood and scraping grain. The promise of the wild.