CHALLENGE THIRTEEN

Since its been over a month since our last challenge I propose a SPACE WESTERN. IN ANY MEDIA FORM YOU WISH. (Except like poop art or but print painting or anything like that.)

The Morning Forest

It was a fine day. The sun touched his face with cheery beams as he pushed open the old window. A chill alien to his bedroom rushed through his clothes and brought the crisp smells of a new day. The smell of smoke hung in the air and moisture touched his face. It had rained the previous day and puddles still dotted the dirt tract that led out of the forest. He took another deep breath of cool smoky forest air. His hands clenched the sill tightly feeling the splintered wood dig into his callused hands. What was that? He strained to listen. The sounds of dripping water and morning birds folded back from his mind like curtains and he heard it once more. A scream. Pitched high and keening and undoubtedly in pain. He had heard the same scream of animals caught in hunters traps that dotted the woods during the summer season. But it the forest was just beginning to melt and no fool hardy trapper would venture here when the chill of winter was still a near memory. He quickly made his simple bed. Pulling bits of spiny straw out of the mattress and laying the thread bare quilt atop it.

He took his cloak off of a peg by the door. His staff from its place beside it. His hand notched easily into the worn wood where he had gripped it many times before. And he made his way out into the morning forest.