The cool air clung to Dima and then washed him away into a distant area of relaxation. A place he had become quite intimate with over the years spent in the woods. America felt different though. There just wasn't that mysterious, wild feel he had become accustomed to in Russia. Nevertheless, weeks spent alone in peaceful serenity was exactly what Dima wanted. And that's exactly what he got. Everything had been quiet, sans a few hunters and hikers. But he stopped seeing them about a week or so ago. "Now that I think of it, I haven't seen anything. No birds, not a single creature." Dima thought to himself.


Dima climbed a nearby treestand that seemed abandoned. [i]Crack!![/i] "Prukrati...." Dima muttered. His leg slipped through the newly formed hole. Dima pulled his leg free and wearily stood atop the rickety structure. He took out his binoculars and peered out over the beautiful Iowaian forest. "Strange." He thought. "Nothing, nothing there is." Dima practiced saying. His poor English had been obvious, and ridiculed, since he came to America 6 months ago. But everything was serene. [b]Or so he thought.[/b]