FERAL-A Hog Hunter's Diary: Just the Stories

Nature is never completely silent, but for the moment, the only thing competing with my beating heart are the cicadas and the earth and roots being torn and turned. Tucked low, I'm still on one knee but using my rifle as an anchor. My face hovering at boot level. I silently rest my thermal on top of my rifle, the quick detach lever emitting a barely audible but satisfying click as it draws tight against the rail. I give the grass beneath me a few pulls. The silent buzzing on my wrist tells ...