The buck bent it's head down, and tore grass from the ground, chomping greedily. It ate and moved on through the woods, calling and grunting out for a mate. Scout rose from his crouch and crept across soundlessly across the forest floor, careful not to step on anything that would alert his position. The doe, stilling calling, crossed into an open grassy clearing. Perfect, he thought. He sidled in a patch of bushes on the edge of the field, and waited for the opportune moment. The buck, completely obliviously, continued his leisurely strut through the grass. Now.
He rose from his cover gun raised, and squeezed off a single shot. The buck whipped his head around in surprise, but it was to late. The buck reared on his hind legs, and careened over, slamming into the ground. He jogged over to his kill examining the bullet hole. A heart-lung, perfect shot. He attached his drag the the dead buck's antlers, and shrugged on the shoulder straps. He trudged forward, retracing his steps back through the forest. 20 minutes later he arrived at the hunting lodge, his home. His adoptive father Colt came out to meet him. Scout detached the drag, and left the buck for Colt to inspect. As his father examined the deer, he drew back the bolt on his rifle, slid another bullet into the cartridge, and closed the bolt.
"Nice shot" his father praised him after a close evaluation. Scout nodded at the compliment respectively, but remained silent. "Skin it and bring the meat inside, and remove the antlers, we'll put them in the display. He nodded again an got to work, taking out his knife. Once he had completed his tasks he brought the spoils back inside, and put the meat into the freezer for later use. The lodge he lived in was run by him and father, who owned it. It was open to hunters looking for game in the area for a small rent. To Scout's growing discomfort however, the number of hunters staying at the lodge was dwindling, and he sometimes noticed his father staring down at the ledger, sighing and wringing his hands. He forced the dark thoughts out of his mind, and busied himself chores, and cleaning.
He straightened and dusted the vacant rooms, all but two of them at the moment, and then scrubbed the bathrooms. As he was working a pleasant smell wafted through the halls, filling his nose with the delicious scent. Venison, he thought. After a half hour hard labour, Scout wandered into the kitchen to find is dad putting the finishing touches on their meal. His dad had made his favorite spicy venison stew with mashed potatoes, and cornbread muffins. It wasn't a lot but him and his dad managed and any food made by his father was excellent. His dad glanced up at his entrance, and he went over to help his dad set the meal. The took their seats and began to eat in silence. Scout devoured his meal, an afternoon of jobs had had it's toll on his stomach. After a while, he decided to strike up some conversation to lighten the somewhat dampened mood.
"So.... how has business going lately?" he asked lamely. His father didn't look up from his food.
"Fine," he lied. Scout shut up, seeing he was only worsening situation, and finished his food. After he was done he got up and helped his dad wash their dishes. Meanwhile one of the huntsman currently residing in the lodge clambered back inside the door with a small nod in Scout's direction. His father disappeared into his room and he made his way back to his own, swinging the door shut behind him. He climbed into bed, and switched on the lamp on his nightstand, and picked up his book. Reading was his hobby on the downtime he had when he was not out hunting or performing some chore.
He had not read two pages when he heard shouting and the sound of something breaking. He threw aside his book and jumped out of bed, flinging the door open, and sprinting towards the commotion. He skidded into the lounging area for guests, and saw the tow men staying at the lodge on their feet yelling at each other. One of the men let loose a string of nasty curses and Scout moved to break the men up, in the absence of his dad to handle the situation. He shoved one of the men away from the other, and grabbed the other guy's shoulders forcing him back. The man struggled in an outrage, and drew back his fist. He slammed Scout in the face, sending him flying down to the floor. Stunned, he lay there for a second, and then got back up anger rising in his chest.
"Are you happy now!?" Scout yelled at the man. The man stood their for a second looking guilty, not making eye contact. "Calm the hell down before I make you leave here for good!" The man with one last furious glance up a Scout and the other man, stormed out of the room.
"Are you all right kid?" the man asked him.
"I'm fine," he replied curtly, without even a glimpse in the man's direction, and walked out. He got back to his room and examined his face in the mirror. His left eye and blue and swollen, and it throbbed relentlessly. He touched it gently and winced at the pain that shot through his face. Lovely, just fantastic. This is going to piss my dad off real good he thought with a grin. He couldn't wait to see the face of his father when he found out that one of the hunters had decked him.
As he went back to bed he threw aside his book, no longer interested in reading, his face hurt to much to focus on the words. He stripped off his clothes, right down to his boxers, and climbed into bed. Careful not to put pressure on his swollen eye, and lay in the dark and slowly drifted off to sleep.