Upon waking from a heavy slumber, I was first aware of the coolness in the air—not very reminiscent of Spring. I rub the remainders of sleep from my eyes and stretch my arms above my head. As I arouse from the bed, I feel...different; refreshed almost. Come to think of it, I don't recall waking up once throughout the night. That's a shock considering how messed up my sleep cycle has been.

I make my way towards the window, pulling the scarlet linen drapes back to check on the weather. The sky was a dim, dull gray and the sun—barely visible between clouds that promised rain. Seeing that only lessened my enthusiasm for today even more. Beneath the bed, I haul out the hefty suitcase that I hid upon discovering Brahms had been taking my things, and search for an outfit to wear. It's a chilly day so, I'll have to put on a few layers. As I ransack through my clothes, I find that nothing I own was suitable for hunting. Also, being unaware of the fact that U.K. weather was shit, I hadn't packed any sweaters or hooded jackets. All I've got to cover myself up with was a denim jacket. I put it on over a white spaghetti strap top and paired it with black skinny jeans. For shoes, I had to stick with the only pair of sneakers I brought with me...My white sneakers. It won't matter how careful I am, without a doubt they'll be scuffed and dirtied as soon as I step outside. My other options were either flats, flip-flops, heels, sandals, or thigh-high boots. Sneakers were definitely the best pick.

I quickly brush my teeth and tie my hair up into a high ponytail. Before leaving, I take a quick glance around the room. I head over to the nightstand where my phone lied above it. Even though I couldn't use it, I decided to bring it along with me. I tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans and, as I make my way down the stairs, I see Brahms waiting for me by the front door. He had on a dark green camouflage coat with matching pants, brown boots, and gloves.

I place a hand to my forehead and search around the room, "Brahms, where are you?" I joked, pretending not to see him.

Brahms, who was standing only a few feet in front of me, gives me a tiny wave. As I reach him, I continue to pretend as if he wasn't there. I poke my head around him, eyes searching in every other direction.

Brahms tilts his head, " Y/n," he mutters, grabbing my hands suddenly, "I'm right here."

His hands, warm and soft, were cupped around mine. Beginning to feel a heat growing in my cheeks, I quickly tug my hands from his grasp. The feeling then slightly diminishes.

" I-I know you are Brahms," I told him, " It's called a joke."

He nods, " I know, I was playing along too."

After a few seconds of awkward silence, I notice Brahms' eyes gazing up and down at my attire.

" You didn't expect me to be prepared for this right?" I ask.

Brahms shakes his head and turns his body to the side. I do the same, finding a brown trench coat and...boots—on the seat of a chair. A sigh of relief escapes my mouth as I take off my sneakers to try them on. They were a bit snug but, it'll do. I unfold the coat and upon inserting an arm through the sleeve, I struggle to fit it inside.

"Did you forget to remove that?" Brahms asks as he points to the denim jacket I still wore.

I shake my head, "I can make it fit," I said as I continue to shove my arm in further. Eventually, I manage to get it in but, the sleeve was uncomfortably tight. " See, I got it..." I showed him, lifting my suffocated limb up stiffly, "A-and now for the other one."

Before I could try and get the other arm in, Brahms comes over and takes the coat off me. My arm ended up getting stuck on the way so, he had to tug at it a few times.

" Don't be so stubborn." Brahms says as he finally gets it out, "Make things easier for yourself and take that off."

I stood still, staring at him before reluctantly deciding to swing my arm forward. I try to snag the coat back from him but, Brahms' cat-like reflexes are too quick for me as he moves it further from my reach.

"-Don't make me do it for you," he warns while taking a step forward.

"No—," I said, immediately lowering my arm, "I'll do it myself."

I pull on the sides of the jacket and slide it off me. Goosebumps form on my skin as the brisk air comes into contact with my now exposed shoulders. I toss the jacket on the chair and cross my arms over my chest, as if bare. Although I was wearing a shirt, it was one of those days when clothes feel thinner than usual.

Brahms swiftly lifts the coat over my head and lets it fall against my back. He then lowers his arms to the side of my shoulders, holding the coat open for me. I sigh as I remove my arms from my chest to stick them into the holes of the trench coat. Once they're in, it now fits like it's supposed to. Not too big, nor too small.

" This was my mother's," Brahms says as he buttons up the coat for me. He starts at the bottom and works his way up until he reaches the last one, " It fits you perfectly."

All that's left now is the belt.

Brahms wraps his arms around my waist to reach for the belt. When he finds it, he gives it a tug that nearly sends my body into him, causing me to gasp.

" It's not too tight is it?" Brahms asks worriedly.

I shake my head, " N-no..." I stutter, " It's fine."

" Shall we get going then?" he asks, " I'll take you to the best spot."

I nod and we both head out.

I follow him suite, beyond the gates and into the woods. Snapping twigs and the crunching of dried bracken underfoot as we draw nearer to his spot. I look up to the sky, noticing the clouds were much lower; darker too. The wind had also picked up, sending a chill that makes me shiver.

Brahms turns around to check up on me while continuing to walk, " Are you alright?" he asks.

" Yeah," I say through chattering teeth, " It's not typical to go hunting in this kind of weather, is it?"

" No," he replies, " I had originally planned to go on the weekend but, that's a few days from now. We wouldn't have enough food to last till then and... I wouldn't want you to go hungry so, I chose to do it sooner."

Hearing that made my heart warm. It's interesting though, how Brahms is selflessly going out of his way to feed me when just yesterday—I debated whether to eat all the food in his cabinet for myself.

" So, what do you usually catch out here?"

" Deer mainly," he answers, " Though, I doubt we'll be lucky enough to find some. Especially with this weather."

As we trail on, my legs feel heavier and my feet began to ache, " How much longer until we reach this "spot" of yours?" I ask.

" We're not far. It's just at the end of this hill," he responds, pointing off into the distance.

With a deep exhale, I continue walking on the path. Brahms' pace is much faster than mine, with his long legs and such. I find it tiresome trying to catch up with him. I get a bit self-conscious, worried that my huffing and puffing was too loud.

I really need to work on my cardio.

Walking upwards, I hear the sounds of a stream. It's coming from the small waterfall of a pond; filled with lily pads and flower petals. Treading on, I notice the growing amount of trees, looking fuller than the ones we've walked past before. Scattered across the brown soil, velvety green sprigs of ivy and patches of lilies.

This must be the spot.

" It's beautiful here," I tell Brahms.

He nods, " This area attracts all the animals. It makes for a perfect hunting ground."

Brahms then heads over towards a tree, where he had all of his traps laid out. He wastes no time, getting straight into it.

" These are my steel foot-hold traps. I've got a padded and a laminated one. You probably recognize these, they are the same ones I had hanging in my room," he explains, lifting one up to show me, " It has a metal foot plate, curved jaws that are powered by these springs here," he points, " You anchor these in the ground using its attached chain and metal spike."

He then demonstrates how to use it and, it doesn't seem too complicated. After activating and laying it down onto the ground, Brahms tells me to gather any weeds, grass, twigs, and flowers I can find. I bring him a handful to which he uses to scatter on and around the trap. We continue placing the remaining traps until there were none left.

" Now it's just a waiting game," Brahms says, " Let the traps do the work for us."