Gemotions

The old man, Silas, found the note clutched in his frail hand. "Gone fishing." It felt wrong. His protector, his confidante. Silas had raised him since he was a boy, teaching him everything he knew about living off the land, about survival. He was supposed to be gone with him today. The note was on a torn piece of paper, crumpled and smeared with ink. He dropped it. His legs felt weak, and he sank down to his knees. The vastness of the forest surrounded him, filled with the sounds he had come to depend on for his survival. Now, those sounds were a threat.