Excerpt
Chapter 1
Charles Stanton woke up at dawn. Birds were singing and the sky was beginning to turn pink toward the west. He sat up and stretched his arms over his head, his left hand prickled painfully. He yawned and flexed his numb fingers for a minute or so until feeling returned to them. Picking up the stick he'd used for a poker the night before, he brushed away some of the ashes in his fire pit. A few hot coals were still burning snugly underneath. He threw a hand full of dry leaves onto them, blew on the sparks until little flames started flickering. Carefully he added a few dry twigs, one at a time. His coffee pot had enough of the dark liquid left from the night before to fill his cup, a little strong but still drinkable. He moved it closer to the fire.
He looked around at his surroundings. The trees were not as tall here as the ones were further back up the mountain. The deer trail that ran along the edge of the swiftly moving little brook was getting harder to follow, most of it was covered over with brush now. The day before the small creek was only a trickle.
"Old Scamper, I bet we walked along this brook three hours yesterday 'fore we found this little clearing. Nice peaceful place ain't it?" His horse moved his head and nickered as if he understood. "Water sounds a little louder now than it did last night, must a rained up north," he continued. He liked hearing his own voice.
He stood up and took a few steps toward the splashing sound of rushing water. He sighed aloud as he relieved himself against a tree, then shivered as he buttoned his pants. Walking closer to the edge of the flowing stream, he dipped his hands into the cold water and splashed some onto his face. He noticed there were little ice crystals forming along the edges of the brook. 'Wish it was warm enough ta take a bath,' he thought.
