Feathered wings caressed the stock of a Browning 9mm, brushing lightly against the trigger. Sure, the old men were a complication, but they would probably talk themselves to death before they shot a bullet anyway. She could hear their idiotic ramblings clear over in the foliage.

“Hey, I can see the bear from over here!”

“No you can’t you old coot! He’s hiding somewhere!”

“Well, then, we’d better bearware!”

They laughed that insidious laugh in unison. Camilla rolled her eyes and nearly pulled the trigger then and there. But that would’ve given her away.

“Wait! Look, in the foliage! I see something fowl!”

Camilla froze.

“Something fowl? What, dirty, nasty, grimy, what?”

“No, fowl! I see a chicken!”

Said chicken gritted her beak and plugged their foreheads with 15 oz. of lead. A soft laugh was uttered by both, and they slumped over in the bushes.

Camilla sighed and knew that, even with the soft thuds of the silencer, she could’ve given herself away to the bear.

Wait! The bear! Where was the—