Ever since he was a kid, he preferred the quiet of the forest to the hustle and bustle of the small town he was born into. His childhood was spent in the woods nearby; and as he grew older, he grew to respect those woodlands, to understand them, more and more. He took to hunting recreationally at first; camping as well. But the older he got, the more he longed for the simple pleasures and joys of life in the 'wild'.<br/><br/>For the past three years, he's spent his time in a small encampment of his own devising.  Sturdy and properly designed to last through the winters, with cooler areas for the hotter months. Far enough from civilization that he was left alone, but not so far that he could not make a daytrip to get the occasional supplies he could not manufacture, grow, hunt, or forage on his own.<br/><br/>Autumn made his forest home beautiful, like a mural. Even the scene before his eyes would be something many painters would desire to dedicate to canvas. A large creek, or very small river, depending on how you wanted to look at it, with a strong but slow burbling stream of water, was currently being visited by a rather nice looking deer, slaking its thirst on the cool waters.<br/><br/>The hunter took an arrow, and took the time to casually line up his shot. The deer did not yet see him, did not smell him, did not hear him; it was painfully oblivious to how little life it had left. He aims, but does not yet fire; the deer has seen something, and it becomes skittish. It jumps across the river, and suddenly takes off. With a sigh, he trailed closer to the river. The closer he got, the more clearly he could hear something like glass clattering against rock.<br/><br/>Why was there a corked bottle in the river? He had no clue. But the sound must have driven his quarry off. Too bad; he could have salted and smoked enough venison to last him well into the snowy season. He fishes out the bottle, though, curious about its contents. He works the cork out, and stares into it. A note? That whole thing seemed kind of absurd, but... what the hell. He breaks the bottle, to free the note, and reads over it.<br/><br/>As he did so, his 'pet' tiger--more his friend, really, his only friend-- came prowling up next to him, and mreowed, deeply, with curiosity. The creature wandered what it was, what had happened to the promise of tasty deer for dinner.  The ranger brought his left hand down to slowly pet the large feline. "Eh... I wonder... who was this meant for?" He asked his 'friend', who was only able to reply with a deep rumbling of 'I pretty much don't give a damn'.<br/><br/>Suddenly, the scene changed on man and beast alike. He dropped the note, and stared around. Who in the hell were these people whom suddenly appeared before him, and why could he not feel the surety of ground beneath his feet?  The second question is answered soon, in a most dramatic fashion. As they fall towards the placid lake below, he ditches his Haversack, pushing it down underneath him so it would hit the water first.<br/><br/>Water was great for breaking falls! As long as the surface was not tense. At a certain height, an undisturbed body of water became like concrete if you hit it; one had to break the water tension if they wanted it to save them instead of doom them. That's what his Haversack would accomplish; it would hit the water first, sending ripples out, relieving the tension.<br/><br/>Crash! Plunged into the deep water, he was prepared enough to not choke on the onslaught of water around him. He recovers the Haversack as he swims down deeper; not wanting to risk getting hit by another falling person or objects. He would eventually surface, and drag his soaking self up onto dry land, shaking his whole body to try and get excess water off of him.<br/><br/>Ripper, meanwhile, landed with a growl and a hiss.  The beast surfaced momentarily, and began to paddle its way to shore. It joined the woodsman in shaking its whole body, sending a spray of water all over the place. The black and white tiger would have almost instantly set to grooming itself, were it not for the presence of others, which the beast warily watched.