First Step on the Path

A cool breeze grazed the air. My joints, once rigid, responded to intent. I adjusted my grip along the rifle's fore-end, feeling the textured synthetic ridges yield slightly against my fingers. Ahead, a dry pine cone rested beside the worn dirt trail. I shifted my forward boot, planting it firmly into the soft earth, and nudged the pine cone with the toe of my boot. It rolled aside into the dry grass with a faint rustle. The perimeter is clear. I hold position, steady and aware.