Wood Watchers (99 Words)
Sometimes you are bathing in the forest. At other times, I am not at all certain that the forest is not bathing itself in you.
“Don’t look,” I said to Jack. “Keep playing. I think it likes you.”
Jack didn’t dare respond. He played his whistle with deft fingers, his eyelids twitching over his closed eyes. When he risked a glance, his sound went sideways on an uneven breath.
He set his whistle to his lips. The glance he shot me was humorous and exasperated. What else could he do, with a dragon curled on his feet?
Written in response to Carrot Ranch’s Flash Fiction Challenge. Check it out!