Personal Narrative: The End Of Deer Hunting

It was sunday, the end of deer season. After an unsuccessful morning hunt we were left with one more opportunity. We would have to start hiking a couple hours before dusk until dark. We hopped in the truck and drove slowly, our eyes scanning the brush for signs of movement until we reached a rusty yellow gate where only foot traffic was permitted. We continued on foot. Eventually the sun began fading behind the mountain and visibility became lower. My dad told me to wait a fork in the road and he’d be right back. Time came to a standstill, it felt like hours had passed when it was only minutes. I was tempted to yell his name but voices are one of the main things that scare off deer. I was on the verge of panic, anxiety and worry building up
inside me, but I grounded myself. I remembered our agreement incase I got lost; stay at the last place we met or go to a place we are both familiar with. As the light became increasingly dimmer I was forced to make a choice; search for him or find my way back to the truck.
I weighed the pros and cons of each. If I looked for him I could get even more lost and risk getting my father lost in the process or on the plus side I could find him quickly and we could easily make our way back to the truck with his amazing sense of direction. On the flipside if I wasn’t to confident with my sense of direction, stumbling my way back to the truck could get me just as lost but at least there were trails, I knew which direction we came from and I knew what was behind me, not ahead of me. This way was also following our agreement to go back to a place we were both familiar with. In the end I decided the most logical course of action was to head back to the truck. I stumbled my way through the dark forest, worries of bears and cougars attacking me. Eventually I came to the yellow gate marking the trail. Immediately I was disappointed when he wasn’t there. After some time I heard shuffling in the bushes and he appeared.