Read Dragons & Butterflies: Sentenced to Die, Choosing to Live for Free Online

with pellets. I was hoping to shoot some rock pigeons with my air rifle. Janos took his double-barrelled shotgun and we trudged along in the direction of some forest, while he took me through the do’s and don’ts of hunting. It was almost dark by the time we approached the cluster of dense trees. Janos instructed me to wait beside a huge decaying trunk that seemed to be the refuge of all sorts of creepy-crawlies, and I didn’t much like the look of it. Sensing my apprehension, he placed his hand on the back of my neck, assuring me that he wouldn’t be too far, and that I had nothing to worry about. His paternal gesture did very little to comfort me. Struggling to hide my indignation at being left behind, I grudgingly accepted that I had no choice but to wait, as apparently my presence on the hunt would be more of a hindrance than anything else.
    Janos disappeared into the forest. As soon as he was out of sight, I was paralysed with fear. Holding tightly onto my air rifle, I did a quick reconnaissance of my surroundings, while my vivid imagination replayed numerous possible scenarios, most of which ended with me being devoured by some ferocious beast. I had never felt so scared, alone or vulnerable. I wondered what had possessed me to think hunting was fun. I anxiously looked around for a place to hide and noticed a large boulder a few metres away. It stuck up amid the dense bush and was shielded by a group of wild thorn trees. I thought it would offer a view of the dark landscape as well as provide safety from any prowling predators.
    Silently perched on what I now considered my stronghold, my senses adapted to the darkness, and I took in all the enchanted and mystical undertones that emanated from the forest. The sounds ranged from the cooing of the rock pigeons, the flirting of small birds and the slithering motions of snakes to the musical chirping of the male African cricket. I imagined I heard the steps of some carnivorous animal, too, as well as the distinctive doleful howl of a hyena.
    Then, after what seemed like hours, the harmony of nature was shattered by the loud thunder of a shotgun discharging. Birds that had nested for the night blindly rose up and scattered in every direction. I got the fright of my life. I had estimated Janos to be some distance from where he’d left me but it sounded like he was very close by. Despite the shock of the noise, I was also comforted by his presence. Then, at spaced intervals, sometimes firing two consecutive shots, I could hear that he was moving further and further away from me. I was scared, but it heightened my vigilance. I wondered if Janos would ever return.
    Eventually, to my intense relief, my stepfather did come back. On his approach he gave a hoot that was a perfect imitation of the low, wavering call of an owl, and at the same time, in his usual bellicose manner, he called out to me in Hungarian.
    ‘ Shani! Hol a fenebe vagy mar? ’ (Where the fuck are you?)
    Silently I descended from my hiding place. ‘Here,’ I replied nonchalantly, as I strolled towards him. ‘I’m here.’
    Janos held a couple of dead guinea fowl and pheasant in his hands.
    ‘ Fogd mar meg ezt es menjunk a francba ,’ he said, throwing them down at my feet (Grab these already and let’s get the fuck out of here).
    Although I was used to being around slain animals, having been taught to wring the neck of a chicken at age five, I was squeamish at the sight of blood. Whenever Janos brought home game he had shot, I couldn’t help feeling pangs of remorse for the dead creatures.
    The one positive result of my first hunting mission, however, which I wasn’t aware of at the time, was that I overcame my fear of darkness and my nightmares ended. There were several occasions after this when Janos took me hunting, and each time my confidence grew, making these trips more interesting and adventurous for me. Janos even allowed me to fire his shotgun. The first time, I almost dislocated my