It started much the same as it usually did. He’d wake up in that empty wide bed, the sun tracing patterns across sheets and wooden floors, fingers spread in golden light to welcome the day through curtain windows. He’d lay there, quiet as he’d listen to the birds' sweet songs outside, the sounds of that lush expanse of a forest surrounding the small cabin in the woods buried deep in the heart of panda land. In this place of emerald greens and deep vibrant colors of purples and yellows and rich browns, he had built a home, raised the twins, and created a simple, quiet life. In the morning sun he would thank everything that brought him to this moment… And mourn the things he lost along the way. Once settled up and ready to move, he’d make his way to kitchen, start coffee and enjoy the quiet once more, toxic hues of green tracing over the dining area that connected to the quant kitchen, some herbs lining walls to dry, while plate were stacked neat and clean against the side of the sink. Echoes of children's laughter played across the walls of the house, and flashes of memories danced through the hunter's mind. A spilled drink, one chasing the other through the kitchen as dinner was being made. Home work at the table, or a spider to scare a sibling. SO many wonderful things he cherished with all his heart. As the aroma of coffee would fill the air, he’d move to pluck a mug from its home in one of the cupboards, fingers idly tracing the handle. The hunter had hardly aged, the life of all elves extended far more than most, having the ability to be hundreds of years, and not looking a day over thirty, but he felt the years hang on him. Bones that once could move one way, now protested and ached if he dared to try it, muscle much the same, though he never lost that muscled physique that he was known to have. Days in the sun kept flesh tan, and as his skin was still a map of art, he’d have acquired a few more to add to the collection.. One in particular, a snowflake on his left inner wrist. Incredibly delicate in nature, it almost seemed out of place on the man. Hair that was a rich color of auburn, thick and that fell down to middle back if let loose from its prison of a tail, now etched in grays and whites, peppering through the sides of his hair, and then following down further. While it wasn’t completely noticeable at first glance, the red of his hair hiding some of this age, they were earned marks of life. His five o'clock shadow that he kept also had the same peppering. He’d have a few wrinkles at the corners of eyes, and a small wrinkle across brow. He’d be himself, just a little bit more tired, a little bit more wise. He’d then take to the porch, watching the world wake up as the sky, dotted with a few fluffy clouds littered its blue space; Man enjoyed the smell of earth and plants alike, a soft breeze drifting through the forest. The cottage was two stories, with a living area, a kitchen and a dining room on the base, living area and bathroom at the top. Outside was a small fence surrounding the place, a garden with vegetables and fruits growing, an apple tree and a cherry tree now coming into fullness, the trucks now growing thicker, as if they’d been there for quite a few years. Soft sigh escaped hunters lips, before he’d take a sip of his drink, toxic eyes now closing as he’d breath out, quietly speaking as if someone else was there. “ You’d of loved this place…..”
