Misunderstood

Nobody's Home

   Duncan tried to stay as silent as he could, as he walked through the brush slowly. He checked his clip, counting his rounds before setting it back into the large rifle. After about fifteen minutes of walking down one of his trails, he saw a freshly cleared path. "The fuck?.." Duncan asked himself, shouldering his rifle as he walked closer. The path, lead up into an unexplored part of the forest. He could see bootprints heading his way, also fresh. "It's only been a week, how has someone already cleared a path?.." He said, beginning to walk down the trail quickly. He hadn't make any real contact with anyone for months, so he didn't know of anybody living back here. The trail stopped in a small clearing, a small cabin stood in front of him. It almost looked exactly like his, just more run down. No fence, windows, or outhouse. Duncan walked up to the porch and shouldered the door open anxiously, looking around quickly with his gun raised. The place had a metalworking bench in the far back, along with a beat up sofa and bed. Nearby was a table with a leg missing, along with a filled up trash can. Duncan looked around, picking up objects and examining everything. He continued this until he heard the footfalls of an approaching person. His eyes went wide as he darted to a window in the back, climbing out quickly and crouching down. Just as he did, he heard someone enter. But Duncan didn't stick around to find out who was there.

  As he snuck back down the trail, in the brush. He made a mental note of the location. He would keep tight watch tonight. He broke through the bushes and ran inside of his house, panting as he took off his coat and boots, hanging up his coat and pushing his boots under the table as he sat down, running his dirty fingers through his hair. "Who was that?.." He asked tiredly, keeping his rifle beside him.