The nip of the cold morning air roused the hunter from his sleep. He stirred, desiring nothing more than to wrap himself up and catch a few more hours rest. The hunter knew he needed to use this opportunity to get up.

Food wasn't going to catch itself.

'Unless they wound up in one of the traps...'

He continued to lay in bed, while staring at the roof and mulling the thought over. Until he had to answer the call of nature, which forced him out. This was an important day, and he wanted it to be memorable, but couldn't help feeling depressed.

It was time to go home.

He moved and prepped his gear for the trip ahead. His knife was sharpened already, having done so the previous night until tired enough to fall asleep. He checked his bow over for any problems, as he always did before a hunt, and made a few minor adjustments it didn't really need in a poor attempt to keep from leaving just yet. Then finished his supplies by packing only what he thought would be essential for the short expedition. A fire starter, a canteen full of clean water, and the remains of a worn medical kit.

After a moment's thought, he put the medical kit back where it came from.

He exited a den and approached the treeline away from his camp, then pulled out his knife, and carved a final diagonal line across four vertical lines to complete the set of five. He stared at this particular tally mark much longer than he had the others before, for this group held more significance to him.

After a few moments he put away the blade, and with that, the morning routine was done.

He stepped into the forest and disappeared into the trees and brush, which swallowed his form in a welcoming embrace.

The air was still, making the grass and trees look as though they were frozen in time.

Not a single creature stirred, causing the forest to become deathly silent.

For the Hunter walked among them once again.

Fwip! Splash! "Finally," the hunter grumbled in annoyance, as he reeled in his latest catch.

A cat-fish.

This wasn't the bottom feeding delicious-when-fried-with-cornmeal catfish you're thinking of, mind you. No, this curious little creature was like a literal cat-fish.

Just imagine a mermaid, but instead of the top-half of an attractive red-head, it's a cat. Specifically, it's the head of a cat blending seamlessly over to the body of a fish.

Cat-fish were a little disturbing for the hunter to eat at first. They had fur on their heads and hissed when threatened. They purred and meowed, and a few would even come right up to him looking to receive pets, if he stuck his hand in the water. They also had whiskers, but they were much thicker than a normal cats, and were fewer in number.

Cat-fish also came in a wide variety of fur patterns and colors. Many of which the hunter recognized, and resembled a few cat breeds known to him. The majority of which he found were mainly domestic types.

He was hoping to find a Persian one this time... but oh well.

This catch in particular had white and blueish-grey fur. Its face was mostly white with a triangle ending just atop its head. It was white on its chin, cheeks, and gills along with half of its lower body. Its grey color covered the ears, back, and fins with a large round spot on its left side.

A cat-fish's fur mostly covered its face, which transitioned to shiny scales just pass the gills.

Oh, before I forget! If you're thinking about trying to catch some cat-fish by 'noodling' for them.

DON'T. DO. IT.

They still have their cat-teeth and fangs; and their bite hurts like a mother!

So there you go! That's what a Cat-fish is. Disturbing, I know; but they're just as tasty as the ones back home, relatively speaking.

The hunter shook the thoughts of his internal monologue, and focused on finding the next item on his shopping list.

His mood was sour from having so much trouble capturing his prize. Normally he could manage in a few attempts, but for some reason his aim was horrendously off today.

The hunter knew he was just stalling himself so he wouldn't have to go back home just yet.

Random thoughts filled his head, while he paid little attention to where he was going. His movements were automatic from having walked the same path many times before; stopping occasionally to forage for the various nuts and fruits near his route.

He detoured far from his course trying to find a plant he knew of in the past, but could'nt remember where it was.

"Mrowl..."

The cat-fish he strapped to his waist made tiny yowls as he hiked through the forest. It was the only thing keeping him company. Until a loud crackling sounded near the hunter, and he immediately crouched down to hide himself.

It was pointless, he knew that, the sound and smell of his catch would surely give him away. He checked the trees above him, but none were suitable for climbing. He stayed crouched and walked low to the ground towards the largest tree in the vicinity.

Staying low and keeping his back to the tree, he listened and waited while counting the minutes...

Until a squirrel jump out and landed a few feet from the hunter. His bow was drawn and ready to fire in fractions of a second; right at its little body.

The squirrel was undeterred in picking up a nut and emulating the loud crackling noise the hunter heard from earlier.

The hunter chuckled lightly with his bow still brought to bear on the little critter, before finally relaxing.

The little squirrel foraged around a bit longer, before stuffing its bounty into its tiny swelling cheeks, and scampering off unhindered by the hunter's presence.

The idea of being done-in by such a tiny creature caused the hunter to cackle a sound that would've done a hyena proud.

Adrenaline and fear gave way to euphoria...

With the high of his 'near death' experience fading away, the hunter stood up and thought about what transpired.

His look turned somber, before brushing off the thoughts invading his mind.

He moved and was ready to call it a day, but not before he lucked upon the next item of his shopping list.

The plant he was looking for just happened to be right next to his hiding spot.

The hunter stood there unmoving, while staring at the lush green plant, which bore the seeds he'd really been looking for.

He eyed the tiny red orbs, which looked succulent hanging off the plant's sprigs...

"Home sweet home," the hunter sighed, as he entered his Den, while removing his pack and laying his bow by the entrance.

It wasn't much of a home. Just a large hill with a moderately sized cave inside it. His 'hobbit hole' as he come to call it; sat off-center in a short grassy meadow with nothing around it for several dozen yards. The hunter had a fire pit to the right of his home - where he would be cooking his meal tonight - and a small garden to the left a few yards away from the hill; which later he checked thoroughly for ripe fruits and vegetables.

To a fresh pair of eyes it was a beautiful sight, a true home away from home, and he's been away from home for a good long while.

Tonight, that was all going to change. He thought about it for weeks, months even, by his count; and finally felt it was time to return home.

The hunter made it back to his camp with daylight to spare, and set about completing his post-gathering chores in preparation for his meal later.

He cleaned and gutted the cat-fish, which went silent a long while ago, leaving the hunter alone with his thoughts in the wilds. Then buried the remains in the garden, more to be rid of the smell rather than the fact it was excellent fertilizer.

The cat-fish would be his main course for tonight.

He stoked a fire using the hot ashes from the previous night, then laid his meal--seasoned and wrapped in clay--directly on the hot embers.

He sat back and snacked on the various fruits and nuts he gathered from earlier, and waited for his dinner to cook thoroughly.

It was nearly sundown.

The yellow-orange orb was just barely touching the horizon, as the hunter ascended to the top of his home with his meal.

The hill's height not only allowed him to spot danger from any direction, but also allowed him to watch the sunset as it slowly dipped into the distant mountains.

It was a beautiful sight, despite the heat from earlier in the day, but now it was already beginning to cool off.

"Hey Mahoney," the hunter nonchalantly greeted his company as he settled himself in. Wanting to eat while admiring the natural artistry before him.

He brought two canteens with him. One was filled with clean water, and the other was a special drink he wanted to have later.

The hunter sat on the ground with his legs crossed, arranging the small feast around him. He placed the cat-fish directly in front of him, and the canteen of water to the right of it. The other canteen he kept behind himself; to keep the sun's rays from warming it before he was ready to drink. For the final dish, he placed a small clay bowl full of baked potatoes to the left of his main course.

"No, I didn't find any dog-fish today," the hunter started sarcastically. "You ask me that every time I come back from the river. It was funny the first time when we thought of it, but now I'm getting pretty fuckin' sick of it," he growled at his guest, his sour attitude killing the mood.

"Yes, I found what I was looking for; and before you ask, yes, I'm still going through with it," he mumbled grouchily.

Nothing else was said between the two 'friends', while the hunter ate his meal.

OWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAROOOOO-

The hunter looked back in the direction of the howl.

Uninterested, he continued to eat while watching the sunset; ignoring the other howls that followed.

The spices, herbs, and minerals didn't quite cook into the the meat the way that he liked, but still enjoyed it nonetheless. He chewed slowly, savoring the flavor, and washed his food down with the fresh water in his canteen; all while feeling the warmth of the descending sun upon his face.

The sky was painted in a multitude of bright colored pastels. The burnt-orange color of the sun contrasted well with pink ribbons, and shades of green, while looking like the northern lights, only much more. The blue hues of the night mixed in with the others, as if gently laying the sun down to sleep.

OWOOOOOOOOOO

That one was much closer than the others.

The hunter looked again at where the commotion was coming from. Something was certainly making them work for their meal tonight, and he silently wished whatever it was the best of luck.

The sun was nearly below the horizon. The last of its rays were peeking over the mountains. No thoughts entered his consciousness, while his blank mind allowed him to simply be. He stared into its dying light, letting it fill his soul.

It was time.

He picked up his special drink, having made it by crushing and boiling the seeds he searched for earlier that day. Making a sort of sweet drink.

The seeds, however, were not safe to eat, much less drink.

But that was the whole point.

"'m sorry... but I waited for as long as I could..." he whispered as his voice shook and throat tightened.

He held up his special canteen, giving one last look to his only means of getting home.

All he had to do was drink, he'll fall asleep, and it would all be over.

With his final toast done, he was ready. With his eyes tearing, a lump in his throat, and a weight in his heart; he brought the glass to his lips and poured the poison liquid into his mouth.

"AAAHHHHHHHH!"

"Ppppttthhh!" COUGH! COUGH! Cough! Spitoo!

The hunter sprayed the liquid out in a brilliant mist, while coughing and spitting out what was left.

He whirled around with eyes wide in disbelief, while spittle leaked out the corners of his mouth. His eyes darted over the horizon, searching for whomever made the foreign sound.

His heart sped up, its thrumming he feared would drown out any other noise as he listened intently, while trying to pinpoint the direction of where the scream came from. Hoping beyond hope that he it didn’t imagine it.

"HELP! SOMEPONY HELP ME, PLEASE!" a woman's voice called.

The hunter sprang to action, while his muscles stretched and joints popped at the sudden burst of movement.

He knew where the call for aid was coming from, and jumped down from the top of his home, entering the den, and grabbing his bow, arrows, and blade.

"GET ME OUT OF HERE! PLEASE!"

The hunter raced off into the distance, using the other screams to guide him, as he vanished into the forest.

Don't let the subject of Suicide turn you away. I touch upon it later, but depression and suicide isn't going to be the theme of the story. There's enough of those out there.