Don't ask and you shall be spared.

For your Jason! No romance.


The ancient, mud-covered pick-up slowly ambled down the road, successfully hitting every pothole along the way. Jonas cursed as he was jolted upwards into the ceiling after a particularly large one. So that's why he was always told to wear seat belts. Tapping the break a few times, he managed to slow the metal monster down and finally stop in front of a dry, brittle, and all together dead looking forest. Jonas opened the truck door and stepped onto the dirt road, once again cursing as a rather large thorn imbedded itself into the sole of his foot. Damn these flimsy shoes! Walking over to the bed of the pick-up, he pulled out a sturdy pair of leather hunting boots. As he put them on, Jonas kept a watchful eye out for anyone coming down the road. Stupid Yankees and their hunting laws. So what if it was still two weeks before deer season officially opened? By then, these woods would be crawling with wannabe hunters scaring off all the good buck.

Jonas finished lacing up his boot, spit on the ground, then fished a cigarette out from his pocket. He lit it, watching lazily as the smoke drifted into the air, curling this way and that, finally disappearing into the crisp chilly air. A bird called from a near-by tree, and somewhere off in the woods, his mate answered. Jonas allowed himself a small smile of content, and then threw the cigarette into the road. He then proceeded back to the flatbed, and brought forth a sleek ebony hunting rifle. Jonas grinned evilly as he undid the safety. Those bucks wouldn't know what hit 'em THIS year.

A loud crow called out of nowhere, spooking the hunter. Taking a few deep breathes, Jonas cracked his neck, smoothed out his feathers, and started into the forest.

.Oh, you didn't know? Jonas was a duck.