Monday, April 11, 2022

Survival-instinct! (Part 2 of 8)

 Life is “easy”---Today!…“Too”-easy!?---But…once!?

 Silver-sparkle blue-white diamonds glistened like nighttime pinpoints-of-starlight on a black-abyss canvass-canopy at midnight intermittently-dancing between the swaying branches heavy with myriad green-leaves of summer, frothy ripple-crests of a cascading-river reflecting an alabaster-pale full-moon illumination.

On the late day-of-afternoon prior at a mountain-altitude of 7,500-ft., a determined-chill cut the thin-air in spite of clear-skies sporting a bright yellow-sun warm upon the face but lending no relief from the bite-of-elevation.

A plethora of river-willow stretched from the distant northeast-horizon to disappear behind far hills to the north; a stiff mountain-breeze danced the trunks twisting and turning fresh leaves.

Rolling-plains drifted east and west from the river-basin bordering either-side of the tributary; building-clouds to the west threatened rain, probably within the next few hours ushering sunset.

A slight-sniff of the crisp-air revealed an ever-do-slight hint of a heaviness toward-humidity; years of mountain-living experience had taught Buckskin to not only hone his senses, but, to trust-them. Twenty-years of survival in a hostile-harsh environment depended on a savvy-understanding; he had well-earned his reputation as a “Mountain-man” of the highest-order.

Sitting-astride his mountain-bred cayuse, Commander, a sorrel-stallion gained in a poker game up Bozeman-way some three-winters ago from a gambler who drank too much and made wild-bets, the man surveyed the awesome-scene laid before him. Still some thirty feet from the willow-stand, Buckskin listened-intently while his eyes searched the surroundings for anything untoward; each of his acute-senses processing myriad bits of information, simultaneously.

(Part 3 of 8 Tomorrow)

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