Hawk Eyes
1.
There was a disturbance in the forest. Hawk knew that before he had even opened his eyes for the morning. The world outside his makeshift tent was eerily silent. Like the calm before the storm. He popped open his muddy brown eyes and stared distractedly at the thick mossy branches lined above his head as he listened. But there was nothing. Not a sound. And that’s what scared him.
His body slid smoothly from under the deerskin blanket his father made him on his fifth birthday. Usually the soft fur made him feel calm and safe, but not today. Today it did nothing for him, because deep inside a dark dread was spreading.
The seventeen year old boy had an intricate connection with the forest and all of its wildlife. He knew it like a mother knows her own child. Sometimes he could tell there was something wrong, but not what exactly it was.
However, before today Hawk had never had the forest speak this strongly to him. It was as if it was pleading out to him, “Save me, Hawk! Please! I need you!” And Hawk was more than willing to oblige. Like a knight to his queen, he set out to find the source of the problem.
The grass was cold and damp from the morning dew, and a slight shiver crept up the boy’s spine. Thick trees surrounded the lean-to that he had built against a thick trunk. Just enough cover to keep away the rain, but not enough to keep him warm or safe. But he liked it that way. Hawk trusted the forest and knew that if anything bad happened to him, it would be for a greater purpose. To him, every action had a reason.
His bare feet padded lightly through the crowded wood, eyes listening for anything irregular. Hawk growled lightly to himself at the thought of strangers entering huge clump of trees. City men never cause anything but trouble here. They cut down trees, hunt down species to extinction, ruin animal habitats, trample precious plants and start forest fires, he thought bitterly. He hated them.
Without realizing it, Hawk had ended up passing through the forest, and into the meadow. Long, luscious green grass billowed in the wind like a stormy ocean willing him to come closer so it could swallow him whole. So he took confident steps forward and walked into the grass.
The wind was pleasant against his skin, and the grass tickled his bare ankles lightly. The brown haired boy inhaled deeply, savouring the smell of the trees and plants around him. He planted his knees into the ground and put his ear to the earth.
“What’s wrong, Great Mother? Why do you call to me? What do you need me to do?” he whispered weakly and desperately. The ground below him quivered as if from fear and waited a few minutes before answering, “The end. Save me.” The voice was strong and powerful and filled Hawk’s body with an invigorating purpose.
“The end?” he croaked. “The end of what?”
No answer. A tear slid down his dirt stained face as he realized the meaning of her words. “The end of the world,” he whimpered.
His body slid smoothly from under the deerskin blanket his father made him on his fifth birthday. Usually the soft fur made him feel calm and safe, but not today. Today it did nothing for him, because deep inside a dark dread was spreading.
The seventeen year old boy had an intricate connection with the forest and all of its wildlife. He knew it like a mother knows her own child. Sometimes he could tell there was something wrong, but not what exactly it was.
However, before today Hawk had never had the forest speak this strongly to him. It was as if it was pleading out to him, “Save me, Hawk! Please! I need you!” And Hawk was more than willing to oblige. Like a knight to his queen, he set out to find the source of the problem.
The grass was cold and damp from the morning dew, and a slight shiver crept up the boy’s spine. Thick trees surrounded the lean-to that he had built against a thick trunk. Just enough cover to keep away the rain, but not enough to keep him warm or safe. But he liked it that way. Hawk trusted the forest and knew that if anything bad happened to him, it would be for a greater purpose. To him, every action had a reason.
His bare feet padded lightly through the crowded wood, eyes listening for anything irregular. Hawk growled lightly to himself at the thought of strangers entering huge clump of trees. City men never cause anything but trouble here. They cut down trees, hunt down species to extinction, ruin animal habitats, trample precious plants and start forest fires, he thought bitterly. He hated them.
Without realizing it, Hawk had ended up passing through the forest, and into the meadow. Long, luscious green grass billowed in the wind like a stormy ocean willing him to come closer so it could swallow him whole. So he took confident steps forward and walked into the grass.
The wind was pleasant against his skin, and the grass tickled his bare ankles lightly. The brown haired boy inhaled deeply, savouring the smell of the trees and plants around him. He planted his knees into the ground and put his ear to the earth.
“What’s wrong, Great Mother? Why do you call to me? What do you need me to do?” he whispered weakly and desperately. The ground below him quivered as if from fear and waited a few minutes before answering, “The end. Save me.” The voice was strong and powerful and filled Hawk’s body with an invigorating purpose.
“The end?” he croaked. “The end of what?”
No answer. A tear slid down his dirt stained face as he realized the meaning of her words. “The end of the world,” he whimpered.
♠ ♠ ♠
This is a short short story. Not really even a story. Just something I wrote this morning for English class. Maybe one day I'll turn it into a story.