It is said that these woods are where the great Golden Grin reside. It took me years to track this place down, I’m finally gonna be able to see my childhood heroes in person. I might even get to see Hush again. A smile widens across my face as I continue further into the daunting forest. I’ve come a long way from stealing just to keep my family and I fed. None of it would have been possible without the help of the Golden Grin. We likely would have been separated and shipped off to be traded into work. Ever since then I’ve been able to make a name for myself grabbing odd jobs and helping people in need. I even got the materials to make this custom black powder rifle. 

I take out my rifle and examine it with a skip to my step. It’s not very flashy, but it sure is capable of getting the job done. I look up from it to find a surprising sight. Three large white as snow wolves stare at me through the treeline. Peering past them I can see a small shack. I step closer to get a better view and one of the wolves moves past the tree line and stands at attention. All of a sudden the vibrant lush green from the forest around me turns to a mute gray.

Wait where did all the colors go. I stare at the wolf peering straight at me and feel my body tense. It starts from my toes traveling up my body as I shiver with goosebumps. I’ve never dealt with wolves, but from all the stories I’ve heard there shouldn’t be any up here. Let alone any that can turn the world a mute gray. I look down to the black powder device in my hand which has also been changed to a monochromatic color scale. I don’t know what’s happening. They aren’t circling, they are just staring at me. Perhaps they are guarding the shack. My mind races trying to grasp what’s happening. I’m so close to my goal, I can’t let some creatures scare me off.

I begin to raise my rifle to a firing stance but as I raise it to my shoulder it gets heavier and heavier. I rest my cheek on the stock readying towards the leading wolf. My hands are trembling and the sights are swaying way off target. There’s no wind, or at least I can’t hear it over my heart hammering in the back of my head. I take a deep breath and the swaying pauses as I slide my finger off the guard and to the trigger. As I remember being taught you shouldn’t pull the trigger in anger, fear, or curiosity. No it should be a slow squeeze that should surprise even myself like a master archer’s release of an arrow. Unbiased and unphased. 

My finger squeezes slightly as the sound of my throbbing heart disappears and the heaviness of my arms release. No sound, no recoil, and no wolves. I blink twice as color fills the scene again. The sound of wind and birds chirping fill my senses. A lavish smile plants itself on my face and I sigh. Was it really just my imagination?