The sky was a deep, forgiving blue, and the river tiptoed along in subtle silence, as the sun began its labored climb into the sky. The crows were almost mute, save for one, who choked momentarily on a piece of blood-soaked straw. A fog, as thick the river below, slowly trickled over the landscape, coating all it touched in opaque obscurity. The sun, as if obeying an order, rested just above the horizon and peered over the land with invisible eyes, which searched for something small and agile.
A man in a small white car slept on a thin, winding road in the northern wood. In the West, a small black bear finally managed to muster up the courage to bat down a large bee hive in order to lick at the contents inside. The disturbed insects inside stung at his hide with such fury that the bear believed that a tiny thunderstorm had descended upon his bottom and ran to find cover with a mouth full of honey. In the East, across the river, a cloud rolled over and went back to sleep as an old ghost slowly floated through the fog like an old, aimless trout. In the southern woods, an odd-looking mutt of a hound dog sniffed through the underbrush, as the crows watched intently. It trotted over to the river bank, lapping its fill of water before following its nose farther towards the northern woods. It looks up to the crows, who all looked away, nervous of the dog’s intent. Then, as if led by a thousand years of instinct, the dog came upon a clearing in the woods containing several small cabins, one of which contained a young woman; a young woman who was awake, which was a very unusual sight, for the dog rarely saw anyone awake during his excursions. He watched her as she typed on a small computer in her kitchen, feeling a tugging in his tiny dog chest, as if someone had put a leash on his heart. Growing fond of this sight, he sat down at her back door and waited, simply watching.
“Well now” the dog thought, “This shall be a day unlike any other.”