Abigail Daybreak's Story

A soft wind blew through , barely offering cool for the sweat in the dank of the dark woods.

Peter glances up. He takes a deep breath, savoring the fresh air, before it passes.
He glances around, barely taking in his surroundings as he does an unsteady circle, trying look at all around him.
He was just present in the moment, wasn't he? What was going on? Why didn't anything happen? What did just happen?
His mind races, trying to gather thoughts.
It's... It's like every time something happens, I wake up, but between then...
The thought is lost as he glances down to his hands, aware they are now shaking, and sees that he's holding his pistol in his gloved fingers. He hastily holsters the gun, unsteadily handling the straps on the holster as he does so. He's gasping for breath, and feels suddenly ill.
He falls to his knees, breathing shakily and quickly before falling onto his side and lying there.
I'm just... tired...
His vision dims as he slips into an unsteady sleep, the breeze gracing his face as it picks up again, allowing a ghost of a smile to cross his face before he blinks into the abyss.