The sunlight crept through the branches with ease, seemingly awakening the forest with each intensifying ray of sunlight. Soon the forest echoed with the bustling sounds of nature, the cheerful chirps of the morning bird, along with irritatingly beautiful buzz of insects. Distant birds impatiently circled the sky, as if waiting for the long overdue meal to arrive at the table. The blazing sun blasted the moist earth wave after wave; sending the forest into a hazy slumber of sun-cowering animals that were spoiled by the unseasonal clamminess of the past week. Hiding from the overbearing sun next to a forest clearing, a hunter stood gazing to the sky as if a sliver of hope still gleamed down from the heavens. Slung over one shoulder was a weathered .33 caliber-hunting rifle; the stock had been chipped and faded for as long as the hunter remembered, the rust on the barrel though has just started recently. On his back, was a derisive pack that could hold only a few essential items, extra ammo, a canteen, rope, a small odd-shaped wooden instrument and a bowie knife. The Hunter had a wild manic appearance; his clothes stained and tattered by the forest, his face once clean and full had quickly transitioned to one of gaunt alertness and unkempt scruffiness. .
Feeling revitalized, he set out from the clearing with a purpose; he was going to finish what he had started, and hug his family when he returned home. This surprising change in the weather had caused the hunter to break out into a light sweat. Wiping his forehead a sudden realization caused crack a cheerful smile, he was feeling thirsty. The small pools of water that had littered the earth over the past week had all but completely evaporated from the sun, forming a low wispy mist forming over the ground. The pools had allowed the game to avoid the dangerous open of the few sources of water. The hunter had been left to track the ghosts of his presence, perpetually feeling inches from catching the ever-elusive dragon.
