The Hangers

Chapter Two

I get onto my feet and slip off the worn blanket. I stretch, my muscles groaning in protest. "Get up sleepy head!"I yell to Shot. "It's hunting day, so make yourself useful." I bark at the lazy dog. He whines in complaint. Our bellies chime together in hunger, making it sound like a thunderstorm is coming our way. "We're both hungry so we're gonna have to work for some breakfast, alright?" I say while grabbing my clothes; trousers, a black long sleeved my boots, and my Dad's old hunting jacket. Shot stretches his paws and pads out of the cabin. "We had better catch some good stuff considering that I have not had a good sized meal since this time yesterday!" I shrug on my jacket and feel inside the pocket for my hoverboard. It's one of the highest technical products made yet. It can fold down t the size of a die or it can be as big as a door. I walk outside and press the button in the center. It squeaks to life. "Today we're going to the mountains, okay Shot?" He continues to groom his coat until I have strapped my pack and bow onto my back. I put one black boot on the board and push off with the other. I zoom around the trees like a NASCAR on the racing track. Shot barks quite a few times and I can hear his paws hitting the ground. Thump, thump, thump. I let the board go to full speed so I can barely see the trees. I can feel the branches clawing past my face and Shot's paws get fainter as I speed up and louder as I slow down. It's like the really bad club music I could hear from the city. Sometimes, when I venture too close to the Capitol, I can hear the parties and club-casino's music and chatter. Mom used to go to the parties with Dad on their anniversaries and Callie had to take care of me and Jack. I reach the base of the mountains and slow down. This is the kind of terrain that is very dangerous for a runaway like me. No trees. Only dirt and mud, and a rapid, white water river crashing down the side. "This is good hovering land, Shot. And, very easy for you to run up, if you can scuttle uphill..." I yell to my dog. He races up ahead of me and I race him up the slope. For about half of the way, we raced, walked, and rode. Then, we came upon an alcove. We stopped and had mint leaves, some basil, water, and mushrooms. After our "feast" I took out my bow and arrows. Seeing a few birds, and doe, I decide to shoot some of these precious animals. Down by the houses, I don't see this type of bird. It is Whiteish gray, with toes connected by flaps of skin. Its beak is a bright yellow. I aim and shoot. The bid falls down, my arrow aimed in the center of her chest. I place it in my plastic carrier and move on. By the time the sun is high over head, I have shot three birds, two chipmunks, collected two dozen of the bird's eggs, one injured doe and an assortment of herbs, spices, and edible flowers. I have most of the doe cut into pieces when I see movement. Shot, also seeing this, runs to the outside of the alcove to see a little blue gecko at the base of the rocks. I pick up the creature and examine it. Aqua, white and a hint of gray are its colorings. I decide to keep the anima and I pack up for the long trip back.