He was squatting and staring out at me from the shadows of the lodgepole pines that stood on the edge of the half-circle clearing we had cut back from the lake shore. I might not have noticed him at all had I not seen his horse with its head down, grazing the goose grass along the shoreline. The sudden appearance of a saddled horse without its rider startled me. I looked back from the lake to the edge of the clearing, my eyes squinting to make out the shape of a man in the dense forest behind me. I spotted…

Travis Grant

A voice in the wilderness.

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