Hazy light filtered over the trees, yellow at the base, white on the edges, dark blue on the fringes of last night. Gentle breezes wafted across open pastures, swaying treetops, and teasing the mind with scents of smoky wind.
Standing with feet firmly planted on the hard caked clay, a figure watches the rolling wheat fields dancing in the early sunrise. Nothing but nature moved, nothing but nature sang or spoke or breathed, as if nothing but nature needed permission to do so. Running a hand through his bleached-auborn hair, he sighed and inhaled deeply, letting the vapors fill the crevices of his lungs. He knew every groove on his cigarette, every whisp and curl, and savored every breath that calmed his nerves. His dark eyes darted back and forth, scanning the horizon for the trouble he knew was somewhere...out there. His fingers traced the edges of his rifle automatically, giving a rhythm that eased his racing thoughts.
Giggling from the bushes behind him broke him from