I stare down from the top of the tree, watching intently at the man and his son. Not knowing what to expect, I followed them, jumping from branch to branch. The older man finally took off his heavy-looking backpack with a thump. The young man did the same.
“Since you'll be leaving for college soon, I decided that this might be our last camping trip,” The old man told his son with his gruff voice.
“Oh,” said the boy, not particularly interested. He looked around the woods, eyes aglow. I could tell that he had an appreciation for the forest, and decided I might not have to shoo them away. That could not be determined by just the son, but the son and father as a whole.
“Carter, come and help me set up camp.”
The boy known to me now by Carter is close if not six feet tall, and is well muscled. He doesn't look as if he'll scare easily, but I'll do it somehow.
I don't scare just for laughs-- not all the time anyways. I frighten the ones who try to burn down my home by leaving a fire going carelessly, or the ones who try to cut my trees. This is my fortress, and I will not have it ruined by pesky, low-life beings. Other times I do it when I hear young people my age talking about the tale of the “Tree Hag”. If I'm sure of anything, I'm sure I'm not a hag.
They've finished setting up camp, now. They're more prepared than I thought, with a pot over the fire and everything. I wasn't going to underestimate them, now. I've already lost one home; I'm not going to lose another.
By @Fart-Woman
