Days in Nature (Rewrite In Progress)

Axton looks at the lake from his small, cozy camp. The lake glistens brightly under the noon sun in the middle of July. The breeze blows across the surface, making ripples as it goes. The trees look very healthy; the needles are dark green and the cones are starting to grow. The bushes are bright green and the forest floor is covered in needles. A small herd of white-tailed deer graze on some foliage next to the bank of the lake, near a stump that leaned over the water; a couple squirrels scavenge the trees for cones and seeds; a couple fish swim near the surface for bugs to catch. The small lake scenery is serene; nothing could touch it except for him.

He decides to look in his backpack in his tent for some food to cook on his backpacking stove that is light to pack and easy to use. He fishes out a packet of cinnamon-flavored oatmeal, and then he stands up with a cup to fetch some water from the lake. As he approaches the shore, he feels the loose sand start to wrap around his bare, hair covered feet. Each step seems to add more sand to his already sandy feet until he reaches the water. He squats down and dips the stainless steel cup into the fresh lake water. He turns around to head back to camp; he feels a grumble in his stomach, telling him he needs to eat.

Just then, he hears a noise from the main trail no more than sixty yards away through the numerous evergreens and shrubs throughout the forest. Axton remains quiet, hunger subsiding and curiosity erupting. He grabs his Smith & Wesson 9mm pistol out of his backpack and quickly loads a clip and charges a round. He then glances at his watch to check the time; the watch reads 12:30 pm. After acknowledging the time, he slowly walks the barely visible path back to the small trail that led him out here into the middle of nowhere. Taking his time, he looks around only to see the birds scooting along branches and hearing several frogs croak. The leaves of the sword ferns next to the path are pushed forward as Axton hikes towards the main trail, and retract once they are free of his legs.

He pauses for a second to calm himself and remain silent. He continues slowly towards the trail, coming closer to finding out what’s there. As he nears the trail, the animal noises seem to drown out compared to that alien noise. The trail comes into view, and he sees an unfamiliar shadow down the path. Slowly, he sneaks behind an old western red cedar with low hanging branches. The shadowy figure slowly grows larger as it nears him. He waits for a clear visual of this being. Then suddenly, it steps into the rays of sunlight shining through the thick evergreen canopy; a centaur.

Axton stares with fascination and curiosity from under the cedar tree. The centaur suddenly freezes in midstride as though spooked. Axton sees her blonde hair combed down to her shoulders, her skin lightly tanned on her face and arms, her pink lips chapped, and her soft, green eyes. Her upper body is that of a young adult, which contrasts with her horse body. The hide on her flank and legs is purely tan colored, with the exception of the hooves, and her tail is a light cream color, complementing her hair.

She draws a bow and fires an arrow at the trunk of the cedar. He twitches, almost jumping out, at the sudden shot. He doesn’t move. Another arrow pierces the trunk next to the first arrow. He also observes how quickly she readies an arrow and her accuracy. Another arrow is shot, then another. “Hold on, I’m coming out,” he says casually.

He crawls out from underneath the low hanging branches of the cedar. His brown, short hair pokes through first, followed by the rest of his body. He rises from his hands and knees, and stands up straight, showing his red shirt and ripped denim jeans covered with loose soil. Axton is a taller man, just barely over six feet tall; however, the centaur is at least three inches taller than him. Showing fascination more than intimidation, he looks straight into her eyes. “I suppose we should introduce ourselves,” he suggests flamboyantly, trying to break the silence. “I’m Axton.”

Silence. The centaur doesn’t utter a word, let alone breathe. Her gaze shifts from his face to his sidearm. Another minute of silence goes by with them both standing still. “You out here alone?” she asks.

“Yes,” he immediately replies. “What brings you out here?”

Switching the subject, she bluntly asks, “You have that gun as a defense, right?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” he toys as he plays with his pistol, passing it between his hands.

Another silence breaks, only this time it was cut short. “Your camp is nearby if you could hear me trotting on this trail. A lake must also be near, but I can’t see it with all these trees.”

“Not used to forest regions, are we?” he jokes. “But you’re right about the lake; got a nice little camp set along it too.”

“Could you lead me to it?” she asks, almost begging. “I want to continue on my way quickly.”

“Why?”

“You don’t need to know. Now can you lead me to it?”

“Didn’t anyone tell you, †˜Life is a journey, not a destination’?” he asks in an obnoxious tone, almost berating.

“I have heard of that, but I just want some water to continue on my way,” she replies. “So, just lead me to the lake already.”

“Fine,” he defers. They start down the narrow path back to Axton’s camp. The bird chirps and frog croaks return to being the forefront of daily life in the forest; the shadows still blend in with the dark green bushes and trees. “You’re dehydrated and should rest for a while; it’s not good travelling while tired and dehydrated, not to mention hungry.”

“Why would think that?”

“I know how to survive here, so I’d listen to advice when you get it if I were you,” he berates. “I would think that’d be common sense…” Remaining silent, the centaur follows Axton as he walks back to camp. Arriving at the camp, he states, “Here’s my camp and there’s the lake.”

After a moment, she remarks indifferently, “It’s rather beautiful here.”

“It is,” he acknowledges. The backpacking stove, oatmeal packet, and cup of water are still out from earlier when he tried to eat. His gaze shifts to her observing the campsite and the lake. Trotting over to the lake, the centaur reaches in her saddlebag for a cup, filling it halfway after scooping up some lake water.

“It’s nice to have some manners with guests around,” he remarks, noticing her use of a cup.

“I guess so,” taking a sip from her stainless steel cup. “I’m sorry, what’s your name again?”

“Axton.”

“Axton… let me introduce myself. I’m Nephele.”

“How fitting that name is,” he jests.

Chuckling, she says, “Don’t remind me, I had enough of that in my lifetime.”

“Just trying to be friendly,” he complies. “You’re not offended, are you?”

“I’m not. In fact, I’m surprised people remember that.”

“Yeah? Greece paved the way for Western civilization, so of course mythology carries over as well.”

“I guess.”

“It’s funny how they actually were onto the truth when we ignored it and called it myth.” A brief pause erupts. “I don’t mean to offend you, if you’re thinking that.”

“No, it’s okay. I just never met a human before,” she shyly states.

“Ah.” Axton turns around and walks to put away his cooking gear. “We’re not that interesting, so you’re not missing much,” he states as he steps into his small, light-grey tent with the gear.

“I bet.”

“Say, you wanted to keep going right?” he asks suddenly.

“Didn’t you say that I should rest for a while?”

The lake glistens brightly under the noon sun in the middle of July. The breeze blows across the surface, making ripples as it goes. The trees look very healthy; the needles are dark green and the cones are starting to grow. The bushes are bright green and the forest floor is covered in needles. A small herd of white-tailed deer graze on some foliage next to the bank of the lake, near a stump that leaned over the water; a couple squirrels scavenge the trees for cones and seeds; a couple fish swim near the surface for bugs to catch. The small lake scenery is serene; nothing could touch it except the one person there.

Axton looks at the lake from his small, cozy camp he set up a couple days ago. He decides to look in his backpack for some food to cook on his backpacking stove that is light to pack and easy to use. He fishes out a packet of cinnamon-flavored oatmeal, and then he stands up with a cup to fetch some water from the lake. As he approaches the shore, he feels the loose sand start to wrap around his bare, hair covered feet. Each step seems to add more sand to his already sandy feet until he reaches the water. He squats down and dips the stainless steel cup into the fresh lake water. He turns around to head back to camp; he feels a grumble in his stomach, telling him he needs to eat.

Just then, he hears a noise from the main trail he used to reach his little paradise. Footsteps? Axton wonders. It’s unusual for another person to be this far out. No, it sounds like hooves. Not a whole herd, but I think… maybe… just one. He decides to investigate the noise, even though he if know exactly what it is. He grabs his Smith & Wesson 9mm pistol to make sure he isn’t taken by surprise. He slowly walks the barely visible path back to the small trail that led him out here into the middle of nowhere. Taking his time, he looks around only to see the birds scooting along branches and hearing several frogs croak. It truly is peaceful out here, Axton tells himself.

As he nears the trail, whatever is making the noise is clearly not in hurry. The trail comes into view, and Axton freezes. He holds his breath as he takes in the sight. Is that… what I think it is? Logic seems to fail him as he tries to grasp this being. He keeps hiding, fearing it’ll attack him.

He comes out of hiding to reveal himself to her. Axton, not knowing if this is a dream or reality, is staring at the first centaur he’s ever seen. The hide on her lower half is purely tan colored, and each hoof seems to be about the size of one of Axton’s feet; her hairy tail is a cream color that complements the tan color well. However, her tee-shirt covers down to the top of her abdomen. Her blonde hair was combed down, and her brown eyes sat still, studying Axton body and movements.

“S-Sorry for being hesitant on coming out,” he apologizes. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to attack me or not.” He blue eyes won’t sit still, showing nervousness and shock.

“Why would I?” she asks immediately. “Centaurs aren’t vicious like humans.” He senses bitterness in her voice.

“I thought centaurs didn’t leave the Plains,” he jabs, pressing his luck. “What brings you out here to the West?” They stand still looking at each other, face-to-face, for what seems an eternity. Ah shit, I really made a bad impression on her. I don’t know what to do. Lost in thought, he says to her, “I don’t need an answer, but would you mind telling me your name?”

A moment passed by, then she whispers to him, “I’m Bella.” She seems embarrassed to reveal her name to a stranger, a human stranger at that.