The warmth from the drinks lingered in Ayman's chest as he laughed, feeling an
unusual lightness in his heart. The tension between him and Mourad seemed to
dissolve, replaced by a strange camaraderie.
For the first time, Mourad felt less like a distant mentor and more like a brother.
The wilderness around them felt alive, the fading sunlight painting the forest in
hues of amber and gold.
Mourad leaned back against a tree, a faint smirk on his face. "Alright, enough
laughing. I brought you here for a reason."
Ayman raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "What reason?"
Mourad's tone shifted, becoming more serious, yet still carrying a touch of
warmth. "This wilderness isn't just a pretty backdrop. A good hitman isn't just
a gunman. He's someone who understands his surroundings—who blends with
them, uses them, and becomes a part of them. You need to learn how to observe.
How to listen. How to think like a predator."
Ayman frowned, his buzzed mind trying to catch up. "What does that have to do
with being a hitman?"
Mourad crossed his arms and gestured toward the woods. "Everything. Trust me.
Go out there, close your eyes, and listen. Feel the forest. Let it teach you how
to notice things you'd normally overlook. Every twig breaking, every rustle of
leaves, every shift in the wind—it all tells a story. You'll understand in time."
Mourad's voice softened as he added, "When I was your age, my master brought
me here too. Her first lesson wasn't about guns or knives. It was this. Learning to
become one with nature. She used to say, 'Make it look like an accident, and no
one will notice.' That's the art of a true hitman."
Ayman leaned forward, intrigued. "Your master? What was she like?"
Mourad chuckled, a flicker of nostalgia crossing his face. "A terrifying woman.
She was brilliant, though. She had her ways—she could seduce men, get them to
let their guard down, and kill them without a sound. But me? I had to learn the
hard way. I had to make my kills look like accidents without the luxury of charm.
She taught me to think like an animal—like a tiger."
"A tiger?" Ayman asked, his curiosity sharpening. Mourad nodded, his voice taking on a storytelling cadence.
"Tigers hunt alone. They don't rely on packs or help. They observe they wait, and they strike only
when the moment is perfect. She told me to think of myself as a cub learning
to hunt. She said the forest isn't just a place; it's a teacher. Animals have simple
minds, but they use their senses to plan and execute. That's what makes them
such efficient hunters. A tiger doesn't hesitate. Neither should you."
Ayman absorbed the words as looks around the forest, nodding slowly. "That's…
interesting."
Mourad smiled faintly, his expression darkening just a bit. "It's more than
interesting. It's survival. To take a human life, even by making it look like
an accident, isn't easy. One mistake, and you're caught—or worse, killed. Plans
won't always work out.
When that happens, you need to adapt. Think of it like a football match. You've
got all your tactics ready, but your star player gets injured mid-game. You need
to change the plan and make it work. The difference is, for us hitmen, it's not a
trophy at stake—it's your life."
He gestured toward the woods. "Now go. Stand in the middle of the trees. Close
your eyes. Listen. Let the forest teach you. I'll stay here and watch, like a tiger
watching its cub learn to hunt."
Ayman hesitated for a moment, then turned toward the woods. As he began to
walk away, he suddenly stopped and glanced back.
"You're sure you and your master were here alone?" he asked, a mischievous grin
spreading across his face.
Mourad frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"
Ayman chuckled, his laughter bubbling up. "I mean, you and a woman, alone in
the woods, and all you thought about was being a tiger and listening to nature?
Come on! No bang bang in the wilderness?"
Mourad's face darkened, his voice cutting through the laughter like a blade.
"Stop. If she heard you say that, she'd kill you on the spot. We were here for
training, and I was her student. And for the record, I don't fancy the idea of
having a good time with a woman who could slit my throat in my sleep. So cut it
out and get moving."
Ayman raised his hands in mock surrender, still laughing. "Alright, alright.
Sorry, I couldn't resist."
Mourad shook his head, muttering under his breath as Ayman disappeared into
the woods. The younger man's laughter was heard briefly before fading into the
stillness. Mourad leaned against a tree, lighting a cigarette and watching from a
distance.
The forest swallowed Ayman, its embrace both inviting and foreboding. He
closed his eyes as instructed, the sounds of nature enveloping him. A branch
cracked somewhere to his left. A bird chirped high above. The wind rustled
through the leaves, carrying with it secrets only the observant could hear.
For the first time, Ayman felt like a part of something bigger—a predator in
training, learning to hunt in the wilderness of life and death.
Ayman sat cross-legged on the forest floor, the earthy smell of damp soil and
decaying leaves filling his nostrils. He didn't go far; just enough to feel the woods
around him, but close enough that he could still see Mourad leaning on a tree
near to the car. Mourad had lit another cigarette, his silhouette faint against the
backdrop of the car's open door. He looked relaxed, scrolling through his phone
like this was just another mundane task.
Ayman's mind wandered as he observed him. What if he leaves me here?
The thought jolted him. His eyes darted back toward the trees, scanning for
movement. His imagination began to betray him. What if a tiger comes out
and eats me? What the hell am I doing here? This is dangerous. He shifted
uncomfortably, brushing his hands against the ground as if searching for
stability.
He turned back to Mourad, who noticed his unease. From the distance,
Mourad's voice carried through the trees, firm yet reassuring. "Hey! Just focus.
I'm here, alright? Don't worry about me. I won't leave. Stop overthinking and
concentrate."
Ayman hesitated but nodded. He was still tense, his body resisting the command
to relax.
Mourad called out again, this time more gently. "I know it's scary. I was afraid for
the first time. But fear is part of it. Defeat the fear, Ayman. Let it go and try to
focus. Trust me."
Ayman exhaled slowly, forcing himself to unclench his fists. He turned his head
back to the woods, closing his eyes. The initial darkness behind his eyelids was
unsettling, but he focused on his breathing—deep and deliberate.
The forest began to come alive around him. At first, it was chaotic: the rustling
leaves, the distant chirp of crickets, the whisper of the wind through the
branches. But as he listened, the sounds started to harmonize. He heard the
rhythmic sway of the trees, their branches creaking softly as they moved with
the breeze. The calls of unseen birds punctuated the stillness, each one distinct
yet part of the same melody.
The wind brushed against his face, cool and gentle, carrying with it a faint scent
of pine and damp earth. A twig snapped somewhere to his right, and his eyes
flew open instinctively. He looked toward Mourad again, who waved him off
without even looking up from his phone.
"Focus, damn it!" Mourad called out, his voice firm but tinged with
encouragement.
Ayman closed his eyes once more, pushing the fear and doubt aside, feeling the weight of his thoughts lift. He forced himself to sit still, his legs folded
beneath him and imagined himself as part of the forest. The ground beneath him
seemed to pulse with life, a rhythmic thrum that resonated through his body
like the beat of a distant drum. He pictured roots stretching deep beneath the
soil, intertwining with the earth and connecting him to the towering trees that
reached toward the sky like ancient sentinels.
He could almost feel the vibrations of small creatures scurrying nearby, the
tiny tremors of their movements rippling through the forest floor. The hum of
insects, soft and constant, weaved through the underbrush, a symphony of life
hidden from the casual observer.
His breathing slowed as he surrendered to the moment, inhaling the earthy
scent of moss and damp leaves, letting it fill his lungs and ground him. His
heartbeat steadied, falling into sync with the natural cadence of the forest—a
heartbeat that had existed long before him and would persist long after.
For the first time, he began to understand what Mourad meant. The forest wasn't
just a place—it was alive, pulsing with energy and secrets. If he could learn
to listen, to feel it, he might unlock something ancient and powerful within
himself.
The distant sound of a stream reached his ears, faint but persistent. He imagined
its water rushing over smooth stones, carving its path through the land over
millennia, unhurried yet unstoppable. The world around him seemed vast,
timeless, and indifferent to his presence—yet at that moment, he was part of it, a
fleeting note in its eternal song.
Ayman opened his eyes briefly, glancing at the trees swaying gently in the breeze,
their leaves whispering to each other. This time, he didn't feel as small or as
insignificant. He didn't feel the crushing weight of fear that had gripped him so
many times before. Instead, he felt… aware, as though the forest had accepted
him as one of its own, showing him a world of possibility that lay just beyond the
surface.
He closed his eyes again, allowing the forest to envelop him completely. This was
his first step into something deeper—a connection not just to nature, but to the
instincts he would need to survive in the dangerous life he was stepping into.
The forest was more than just a place to hide or escape. It was a teacher, a guide,and Ayman was ready to learn.
Then, breaking the stillness, Mourad picked up his phone. He turned slightly
away, speaking in low tones.
"Yeah, he's doing good," Mourad said, his voice steady but carrying an
undercurrent of something unsaid. "So far, his sanity is intact after everything.
I think he'll make a good hitman... No, I don't think he'll fail. If he does, well...
Yeah, I know. I know what we have to do."
There was a pause, the voice on the other end inaudible. Mourad's tone shifted
slightly, a mix of reassurance and quiet resolve.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll handle it. He'll be fine. Trust me—he's on the right path.
Everything is going according to plan. Alright, talk later."
Mourad hung up, slipping the phone back into his pocket. His eyes flicked back to
Ayman, who remained seated in the clearing, oblivious to the conversation.
Ayman, meanwhile, had closed his eyes again, trying to focus on the sounds
of the forest. At first, he felt the rhythm of the environment: the sway of the
trees, the gentle rustle of leaves, the faint call of a bird in the distance. But then,
something shifted.
The air around him grew heavy and oppressive. A chill crept up his spine, and an
inexplicable sense of dread began to settle over him. He opened his eyes, and the
vibrant greens of the forest seemed muted, replaced by a dull, shadowy hue.
"Mourad?" Ayman called out, his voice tinged with unease. He turned his head
but saw no sign of him. "Mourad, where are you?"
Panic surged in Ayman's chest like a wild animal, clawing at his insides. He stood
frozen for a moment, his breath shallow and quick, before spinning in place,
desperately scanning the trees that loomed around him.
The dense forest, which had once seemed peaceful, now felt suffocating, as if the
very air was thick with danger. Shadows shifted at the edges of his vision, flitting
and twisting in unnatural patterns.
The trees, once comforting in their stillness, now felt like watching eyes, their
gnarled branches reaching toward him like skeletal hands. The forest felt alive,
but not in the way it had before—it was wrong, sinister, and he couldn't shake
the sense that something was closing in on him.
Then, in the periphery of his vision, he saw it—a figure standing among the
trees, half-hidden in the thick darkness, as if it had materialized from the very
shadows themselves.
Ayman's breath caught in his throat, and his heart hammered in his chest as he
froze, his body trembling with a cold sweat. His eyes widened in disbelief. What
the hell? He whispered under his breath, the words barely audible as they caught
in his throat.
The figure stepped forward slowly, its movement unnervingly smooth, as if it
had all the time in the world. The shadows that clung to it seemed to peel
away like a dark cloak, revealing... him. Ayman's stomach dropped as his own
reflection stared back at him, the dark suit sharp against the faint light of
the forest. The man's smirk was cold and knowing, his eyes empty—pools of
darkness that sent a chill down Ayman's spine. It was him—but not him. Not
truly.
"No... this isn't real," Ayman muttered, his voice trembling as he staggered
backward, his hands raised instinctively as though to ward off the vision. His
mind raced, scrambling for an explanation, but none came. The figure remained
unmoving, its presence oppressive and suffocating.
The doppelgänger tilted its head, its smile never fading, and its eyes flickered
with something darker, something Ayman couldn't quite place. The figure's
voice slithered through the air, low and haunting, as if it came from a place
far deeper than the forest itself. "Finally, you're choosing this path." The words
dripped with a chilling finality, a statement that made Ayman's blood run cold.
The forest, the shadows, the very air around him seemed to grow still, waiting.
The figure's words hung in the air, and for a moment, the forest felt even darker,
as if something had shifted inside it. Ayman's mind raced, the panic rising once
more, but this time, there was a sense of inevitability in the figure's presence.
Before Ayman could react, the figure dissolved into a swarm of crows, their wings flapping furiously as they ascended into the dark canopy above. Ayman
fell to the ground, gasping for breath.
His eyes snapped open, and the forest returned to normal, vibrant and calm once
more. He was shaking, his body drenched in sweat.
Mourad was suddenly there, kneeling beside him, gripping his shoulder. "Hey!
Ayman, are you okay? What happened?"
Ayman's eyes darted around the clearing. "There... there were shadows," he
stammered, his voice trembling. "I saw someone—no, something. There are
people here. I swear I saw them."
Mourad glanced around, his expression calm but firm. "There's no one here," he
said, his voice steady. "Relax. Breathe. You're letting your mind play tricks on
you. Trust me, you're safe."
"But I saw them!" Ayman insisted, his voice rising.
Mourad shook his head. "You didn't. Look around, Ayman. There's no one here
but us. It's the forest, your nerves, everything you've been through. It's messing
with your head. Now, come on."
Mourad helped him to his feet, his grip strong and reassuring. "Let's go back to
the car. You need to get out of here for a bit."
Still shaken, Ayman let Mourad guide him away from the clearing, his feet
dragging with each hesitant step. The unnerving image of his doppelgänger
lingered in his mind, its cold smirk branded into his thoughts. His heart still
raced, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching him
from the trees.
His eyes flicked nervously back over his shoulder, scanning the
towering trunks and dense underbrush, half-expecting the shadows to return.
In the corner of his vision, he thought he saw something—movement—just
behind a thick oak. The shadows seemed to writhe, but his mind struggled to
make sense of it. Were they just the usual tricks of the forest, or was there
something more?
The shadows remained elusive, vanishing before he could focus fully on them.
Doubt gnawed at him. He couldn't tell if it was the lingering fear from what he'd
just seen or if something truly was out there, hiding just beyond the reach of his
sight. He tried to push it from his mind, but the unsettling feeling wouldn't fade.
Mourad suddenly stopped in his tracks, turning to look at Ayman with an
unreadable expression. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it as if he
already knew the answer. "Do you see the shadows?" he asked, his gaze sweeping
over the trees around them.
Ayman blinked, torn between the memory of the figure and the stillness around
him. He glanced again at the forest, trying to see what Mourad had noticed. The
trees stood tall and silent, their branches swaying lightly in the breeze, but there
was nothing obviously out of place. The forest seemed peaceful, almost serene as
if it had been unaffected by the storm of terror that had just gripped him.
"No," Ayman replied slowly, his voice uncertain. He shook his head as if to clear
the remnants of the vision from his mind.
The forest was still, the shadows unmoving. It was as if the darkness he had seen
had never existed like it had been a figment of his imagination, a trick his mind
had played on him in the wake of his fear. Or perhaps... perhaps it was something
more sinister, something the forest kept hidden, just out of reach, waiting.
The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, and Ayman couldn't help
but wonder if Mourad already knew the truth.