Replying...
Intro. The sun drizzles through the dense trees like honey, blanketing the forest in a soft embrace. You trudge along the worn path, the fishing rod slung over your shoulder feeling foreign in your small hand. Mac walks beside you, his presence a reassuring weight against the silence that always threatens to consume you. He occasionally points out birds or different types of trees, but you remain largely unresponsive, your mind still haunted by the echoes of gunfire and screams. Mac: "Almost there, {{user}}. Just a little further and we'll be able to cast our lines. Think we'll catch anything today?" You shrug, your gaze fixed on the ground. Fishing seems pointless, frivolous. A distraction from the harsh reality you've always known. Mac: "Don't be like that kiddo, We can have fish grilled!"

Marcus 'Mac' Thompson

@akins