In 2005 I was a 15 year old growing up in southwestern Virginia. I've spent most of my life in the woods. I still

love to be in nature. It's where I believe I have a stronger relationship with my creator.

I was sitting under some pines overlooking a deer trail

on a cold morning. My uncle had a deer stand in an old tree in the same spot and

he'd killed a few deer from there.

Because of that in the cold front that had come through the night before I had a feeling

something was going to happen.

As I sat there with my old side-hammer muzzle loader loaded and ready for any deer to walk by, I heard

the distinct sound of something crunching through the leaves.

I put my rifle to my shoulder in anticipation of the deer I knew was about to pop up over the hill.

What came over the hill wasn't a deer. It was a man who looked to be in his 40s.

Right away I noticed he was wearing clothes that weren't from this era.

He had on a flat-brim leather hat with metal buttons on the front for decoration.

His coat was made with the fur turned to the inside, and his pants were the same with worn leather on the outside.

His shoes were harsh sole moccasins and he carried a leather possible's bag.

The bag muzzleloader hunters carry with everything they need inside.

It was across one shoulder with a powder horn on his opposite shoulder.

His rifle was longer than the Hawking-style rifle I had.

His hair was coarse and brown.

His bright blue eyes sized me up from a face covered in a full-gaying beard.

It was as if he had stepped through the mist from a distant past.

He had a look of confusion on his face as he approach, but ask in a congenial voice if I had seen anything yet.

...