Dusk In The Hollow peels himself away from the thinning border of the woods, relieved to see all is quiet here aside from the expected sounds of Spring slowly baking into Summer. The stirring of bugs and nocturnal creatures has begun, through the sun is barely showing signs of her meandering walk toward setting. Late afternoon seems to drip slow and sweet now, unlike the early dark of Winter and Spring. No now is the lengthening days, the slow melt of gold into deep reds and bruised indigo at sunset. Then the skyward dusk would creep in, rich velvety blues of midnights chasing the warm plum tones that Dusk wore on his own hide. He blended in better in summer and reveled in the way summer slowly withered into autumn. Autumn remained his favorite season, for summer was still too hot. So he tended to wait until the day was nearly over, sun reluctantly drifting toward where it would sleep for the night, heralding it was once again tolerable for him to be moving around.
Before night could fall in truth, he steps toward the quiet lake, the mirror-like still surface like a fallen shard of sky. It is deeper and cooler than it looks, likely fed by a spring, nestled into a quiet meadow he has never encountered another within. The perfect place for him to slowly plow into crystal clear waters, submerging himself until he was nearly swallowed by the water. The refreshing rush bites through his skull, swishing over the dry bridge of his nose. The way he sinks into the water means every breath is transformed, from dry exhales to the delicate silver plume of mist and a low musical sound. From harsh inhales to a gentle whistling. Giving a pleased rumble of sound deep in his chest and ignoring the way the water ripples, he sinks until little more than eyes and ears are out of the water, and just lets it soothe his thoughts for now. There is time for everything else later. For now, there is only the sunset, the lake, and him.
(Dusk In The Hollow Wordcount: 350 )
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