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Description

At 3,100 feet per second, faster than sound, the bullet cuts silently through the cold, still air. Our

hunter feels the strong recoil but is well braced and maintains focus on his prey. Time has stopped

but the bullet continues towards its target. The buck sees a flash of light from across the canyon

and has time for one last thought - “What the hell was that?”Through the lungs, through the heart,

ricocheting off the spine- the perfect shot...Hours later, as the hunter returns to camp, sore from

the heavy back pack of game, he is greeted with cheers. He holds his prey over his head and cries

a cry of the wild. A cry deep in the soul of man for thousands of years. He howls at the moon, the

fire, his friends, the jeep, his gun, the stars. He howls and howls and howls and howls and …...oh

god this is so stupid....This absolutely did not happen to our hero hunter. The truth is, our hunterlet’s

call him oh … Boaty just for kicks- Boaty, having previously mastered all things nautical,

decided to try his hand at the ancient and glorious art of hunting.And this is his story...

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