The sky was blanketed with light grey clouds as I trudged through the forest to the base of the mountain. There were no birds or small animals but there were plenty of insects. I heard no sound except the occasional twig I stepped on. The whole way to the glen, I felt like I was being watched.
I wandered from the trail at the base of the mountain and started scaling it on the route I took when I was younger. The trees were tall and the rocks were smooth from years of exposure to rain and wind.
When I approached the glen that I camp at before and after my hunts, I thought I heard something. Cautiously, I went past the glen and kept climbing up the mountain, giving no indication that I heard anything. I constantly was searching for a defendable position while I slowly quickened my pace.
I found an uprooted tree and quickly ran to it. I jumped in then swiveled around, drawing three arrows from my quiver, and nocked one, holding the others in my left hand. I held my bow at the ready and scanned my surroundings for anything out of place.
Nothing moved for ten minutes. Not a single sound was made. Then, there was a blur of movement in the corner of my eye. I swung my bow around and scanned the area. Nothing.
I waited there, tense, until dark. I relaxed and made camp in the roots of the tree with my bow and hunting knife close by. I stared at the stars above until sleep finally overcame me.
When I awoke, there were birds chirping and squirrels chattering again. I lay there for a moment, drinking in the welcome and pleasant noise. After I got my fill, I picked up camp and got ready to move on.
I gave my surrounding a quick look and realized that I had no idea as to where I was. As I surveyed the environment around me, I almost didn't see the words etched into the dirt right by the hole in which I made camp. The inscription said "Beware the gaze of felines."