After walking for almost thirty minutes, he came upon the creek. He found a place and filled his canteen to the top. It was good fresh water, clean an... cold. He drank his fill, and topped off the canteen. Finally, he moved out, again. The way became steeper.There was only two hours of sunlight left, when he came upon the first of the upper trap lines. He stopped and rested, briefly, then started following the line. He took the precaution of having his bow out, just in case.They had caught. He was a drinking buddy of mine and as we used the shortcut through the woods he would always need a pee at the same place; by the oak at the side of the path, looking out over the fields with his head resting on the branch of the tree while his bladder was drained. It was his routine.Until the farmer erected a new fence. A new electric fence. His howls echoed around the valley, his tortured cry as dozens of volts shot up his piss and fried his cock. He cried, begging for it to stop, his hands. More

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