Waking

You wake slowly, noticing the little things first. The hardness at your back, slightly rough, but still comfortable; the softness underneath you, it is springy and tickles your exposed legs; and a small weight which rests in your lap. You feel warm, but a cool mist-laden breeze keeps you from becoming uncomfortably warm and the scent of rain on the air envelopes you. A drop falls on your forehead and you wake fully.

Your eyes flicker open and you take in the scene around you. The leaves of the tree hanging down in front of you, the soft emerald green grass and the rain, steadily and heavily falling outside of the shelter of your tree. You look down to see a book resting in your lap, open to a page with a beautiful picture printed on it. The black lines form a dragon looking down on a fallen hero, but not with malice, somehow the eyes of the dragon seem caring, and sad. You don't remember this book, or the storm around you.

The world feels different somehow, though you have only been asleep for a few moments you feel the whole world has shifted. Has it left you behind? Does it matter if it has?

Morning Comes

Your eyes scan a landscape lit by the grey light of dawn. The air is chilly and damp, the breeze bringing the scent of water to you. The moss beneath you is soft and damp. Before you the fire is just a heap of ashes.

The stone you sit on is in the centre of a dried up creek bed which leads down to the raging river bellow. Where the dry creek meets the river you see a calm pool, uncannily still next to the river which flows strong and fast beyond it. You walk down to the pool's edge.

The water is clear and cool. Silver fish dart beneath its surface disappearing into the churning river. Nothing separates this pool from the river, its merely out of the path of its flow.

You skirt the pools' edge until the rivers' spray dampens your clothes. The glint of the sun off the what waters holds your attention for a moment, then with a sigh you begin your long trek upstream.

Night

You look up to a black sky littered with stars. They glitter like gems casting their pale glow onto the world below. You stretch your mind out to them, losing yourself in them. For a moment you feel as if you are among them. The hoot of an owl brings you back to earth.

The night is quiet, disturbed only by the crackling of your fire and the rush of the river. The sounds of the animals are few and far between, often at a distance and half hidden by the sound of water. The fire's light tints the river and the stones beneath you a golden orange.

Your seat is a boulder, softened by a thick layer of moss. In front of you the fire burns low; you watch as it dies down, eyes drooping as it becomes mere coals aglow.

You gently lie back onto the moss. The moss is soft, the night warm, and the pounding of the river almost hypnotic in nature. Slowly you drift into sleep.