A natural quiet set over the pond in the wee hours that morning. The gentle rustlin’ of the reeds, the water flickin’ the side of my boat, and the cooin’ of a few birds in the shoreline bushes all reached my ears, but you don’t pay much of a mind to little noises like that. They’re supposed to be there, like creaks in the floorboards you know too well and you forget to hear them. That’s what got m...
