[i]I sat in the first that surrounded the mountains of the Dojo, huddled up against a tree, a Ghillie Suit worn over sweatpants and a plain white T-Shirt. It wasn't too comfortable, and a pain to run in, but it worked. I looked down the scope of my MSR, in its 7.62 NATO Configuration. My target pranced into the field, a deer. It was only a Six-Pointer, but it was probably the best I was going to find. I breath in and out, three times. Not dating to draw another breath after the third. I slowly depress on the trigger, applying constant, steady pressure. Finally, the roar of the rifle erupts into the air, momentarily disturbing the pace of this beautiful forest. The beast flinches, then runs off to some unknown spot, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. I wait two minutes, and then stand up, slinging to rifle over my shoulder. I find the trail easily, and follow it to the beast, where it lay dead. I field dress it, leaving the entrails for the coyotes and such, and sling either end of the deer on my shoulders. I begin the trek back up to dojoville, where I had purchased an empty lot and constructed a nice Quonset Hut. [/i] [spoiler]Open, but I won't be able to rely for long. [/spoiler]