{Author's Note: This is a little idea I've had for quite some time and finally decided to put on paper. I can't promise much when it comes to updates, and if I find that the story is going in circles I'll probably end it with an apologetic note. Don't expect an earth-shaking plot, just some thoughts.}
The sun timidly peeked her head above the horizon, turning the sky a pale, elusive gray. She yawned and stretched, shooting her rays out, out, out over the sea, touching the tops of foamy waves and dipping deep into fathomless depths. With a final yawn she burst up into the sky, beaming at all and sundry. The gulls blinked their sleepy eyes and soared into the sky dipping into the icy water and coming up with beak fulls of fish. The breakers beat upon the white shore steadily, much as they had done for time without end. One large wave came far up and splashed on something - a bit of brown leather.
The leather was the shoe of some unmoving creature. A gull circling overhead thought that the unmoving figure looked vaguely edible and flew lower to inspect. When the leather clad figure still did not move the cheeky gull landed at its feet and waddled closer, cocking its head to and fro. The creature was dressed all in light brown and green. It sat with its knees drawn up and its hands resting lightly on them. Its golden head faced the sea, and its blue eyes were unblinkingly open. The gull let out a tentative peep, then pecked at a leather shoe. The creature shot straight into the air with an alarmed yell. The gull let out a strangled squawk and tripped over its own clumsy feet trying to waddle away before it remembered its wings and took to the sky, scolding as it flew.
The creature laughed at himself and shook his head. He must have been deep in his waking dreams to allow a mere gull to startle him so. He stretched with feline grace and looked at the horizon without squinting. The sun was in the position of eight o' clock; he had slept too many hours. He glanced once more at the gull, who had settled on the wet sand a few feet away and was glaring at him. He smiled to himself and turned his back on the sea, setting out across the drier sand toward a rocky outcropping. Lightly he sprang onto a large rock and used his hands to pull himself higher and higher. At the top of the cliff he stood looking at the ocean. It spread out farther then his sharp eyes could see. It was so many colors: blue, indigo, green, and the deep dark black of the depths. From here he could see the small movements far out that were really huge waves, able to capsize even the greatest of sailing vessels. His eyes scanned the horizon and he found himself unconciously looking for something. He looked for a small spot of gray - the way he had seen it so long ago - long even to him, to whom time passed both on wings of wind and crawling slower than a worm.
With a shake of his head he turned from the view and walked on the cool, damp grass into a clump of trees. At one large tree he stopped, then sprang up veritcally and grabbed a large branch. He lifted himself higher and higher into the thickest part of the tree where he had built a small shelter. Inside were his few possessions: a bit of dried meat, some bread and fruit, a change of clothes, and his weapons. Some days he would pick up the smooth gray bow and run his hands over thoughtfully, his eyes seeing events long passed, but today he moved aside the bow and unwrapped the loaf of bread. It was nearly gone. Soon he would need to go to the little cave and build a fire to cook the bread in his special way. His store of dry fruit was almost depleted, but that did not worry him. Soon the trees would bear fruit again and he would lay the best pieces out in the sun on the shore until they withered and dried. But he would eat some fresh first. He could almost taste a ripe apple in his mouth. His teeth would sink through the skin into the crisp white flesh. The juice would run down his chin as he would pull out a big bite and eat it all.
He only ate a small hunk of bread before wrapping the loaf again. It did not take much to fill him. He started to leave his little shelter, then stopped and picked up a long white knife. It took regular care to keep the knife clean and sharp, but the tasks of cleaning and sharpening were no longer done lovingly. Such things held no interest for him now. He strapped the knife about his waist, then swung down from the trees again. When his feet touched the ground he was off, veering to the left, running lightly over leaf and root. If anyone had happened to be wandering through the forest they would not have heard him pass. He sprang over rocks and fallen trees, almost without looking at them. When at last he reached the clear stream he was not out of breath. He bent and put his hands into the water bringing his cupped hands to his mouth and sipping. When he had drunk it all he dropepd his hands on his legs and wiped them dry. He listed for a moment - the trees talked softly to one another in their leafy language, rustling and rasping. The birds sang to each other high in the sky, and the water laughed and talked to itself as it skipped over the rocks on its way to the sea. For a moment he was pierced with sadness as he realized that neither the trees nor birds nor stream spoke his language. But before the longing over took him he shook off the sadness and plunged his face into the water, laughing and spluttering as he came up.
The sun timidly peeked her head above the horizon, turning the sky a pale, elusive gray. She yawned and stretched, shooting her rays out, out, out over the sea, touching the tops of foamy waves and dipping deep into fathomless depths. With a final yawn she burst up into the sky, beaming at all and sundry. The gulls blinked their sleepy eyes and soared into the sky dipping into the icy water and coming up with beak fulls of fish. The breakers beat upon the white shore steadily, much as they had done for time without end. One large wave came far up and splashed on something - a bit of brown leather.
The leather was the shoe of some unmoving creature. A gull circling overhead thought that the unmoving figure looked vaguely edible and flew lower to inspect. When the leather clad figure still did not move the cheeky gull landed at its feet and waddled closer, cocking its head to and fro. The creature was dressed all in light brown and green. It sat with its knees drawn up and its hands resting lightly on them. Its golden head faced the sea, and its blue eyes were unblinkingly open. The gull let out a tentative peep, then pecked at a leather shoe. The creature shot straight into the air with an alarmed yell. The gull let out a strangled squawk and tripped over its own clumsy feet trying to waddle away before it remembered its wings and took to the sky, scolding as it flew.
The creature laughed at himself and shook his head. He must have been deep in his waking dreams to allow a mere gull to startle him so. He stretched with feline grace and looked at the horizon without squinting. The sun was in the position of eight o' clock; he had slept too many hours. He glanced once more at the gull, who had settled on the wet sand a few feet away and was glaring at him. He smiled to himself and turned his back on the sea, setting out across the drier sand toward a rocky outcropping. Lightly he sprang onto a large rock and used his hands to pull himself higher and higher. At the top of the cliff he stood looking at the ocean. It spread out farther then his sharp eyes could see. It was so many colors: blue, indigo, green, and the deep dark black of the depths. From here he could see the small movements far out that were really huge waves, able to capsize even the greatest of sailing vessels. His eyes scanned the horizon and he found himself unconciously looking for something. He looked for a small spot of gray - the way he had seen it so long ago - long even to him, to whom time passed both on wings of wind and crawling slower than a worm.
With a shake of his head he turned from the view and walked on the cool, damp grass into a clump of trees. At one large tree he stopped, then sprang up veritcally and grabbed a large branch. He lifted himself higher and higher into the thickest part of the tree where he had built a small shelter. Inside were his few possessions: a bit of dried meat, some bread and fruit, a change of clothes, and his weapons. Some days he would pick up the smooth gray bow and run his hands over thoughtfully, his eyes seeing events long passed, but today he moved aside the bow and unwrapped the loaf of bread. It was nearly gone. Soon he would need to go to the little cave and build a fire to cook the bread in his special way. His store of dry fruit was almost depleted, but that did not worry him. Soon the trees would bear fruit again and he would lay the best pieces out in the sun on the shore until they withered and dried. But he would eat some fresh first. He could almost taste a ripe apple in his mouth. His teeth would sink through the skin into the crisp white flesh. The juice would run down his chin as he would pull out a big bite and eat it all.
He only ate a small hunk of bread before wrapping the loaf again. It did not take much to fill him. He started to leave his little shelter, then stopped and picked up a long white knife. It took regular care to keep the knife clean and sharp, but the tasks of cleaning and sharpening were no longer done lovingly. Such things held no interest for him now. He strapped the knife about his waist, then swung down from the trees again. When his feet touched the ground he was off, veering to the left, running lightly over leaf and root. If anyone had happened to be wandering through the forest they would not have heard him pass. He sprang over rocks and fallen trees, almost without looking at them. When at last he reached the clear stream he was not out of breath. He bent and put his hands into the water bringing his cupped hands to his mouth and sipping. When he had drunk it all he dropepd his hands on his legs and wiped them dry. He listed for a moment - the trees talked softly to one another in their leafy language, rustling and rasping. The birds sang to each other high in the sky, and the water laughed and talked to itself as it skipped over the rocks on its way to the sea. For a moment he was pierced with sadness as he realized that neither the trees nor birds nor stream spoke his language. But before the longing over took him he shook off the sadness and plunged his face into the water, laughing and spluttering as he came up.