A Sunday slogging through the boonies was way down on Ricardo’s list of fun things to do on a football day. He thought of his fifty-inch flat screen TV and leather lounge chair complete with drink rest, a special pocket for his remote control and TV guide. He sighed again.
Some story.
* * * *
A sea of green ferns curled all around Jared, nestled among the oaks and small pine trees. He was on a trail, probably made by raccoons and deer, nearly a foot wide. The air smelled fresh and piney. Jared looked over the brush and foliage and couldn’t see where anything had been pressed down or broken. Had Sultan stayed on the trail, accustomed to the paths he had worn down in his own cage at home?
Jared moved forward, calling and chuffing as he went. The mist was thicker here, clinging to the tree leaves and ferns. The wet foliage soaked his pants legs in a dozen steps. He splashed through a puddle, then backed up, kneeling to look at the wet ground more closely.