AUTHOR'S POV

In Scotland, there lived a man named Wilson. He was a known hunter in the whole of Scotland, well respected and also feared.

He had a strong physique, with broad shoulders and a nice, sturdy build. His tanned skin, which was weathered-beaten by years of exposure to his line of work, piercing eyes that had seen many things.

Wilson had spent thirty years as a hunter and even now, as he is fifty years, he was yet to retire. He had made a proclamation that he would die as a hunter. Despite his age, he was still as strong but maybe not as much as before, but he...