A short (less than 2400 words) vignette with a western flair, but a fantasy foundation.
I had a dream several weeks ago, and this was the dream. There’s another piece of it, too, though it seemed unrelated in how diverse the scenes were. I’ll get to that one soon, I hope.
Enjoy, and please feel free to let me know what you think. I appreciate the read!
He lowered his haunches onto his broken, dust-caked boots.
His fingers touched into the powdery, silver dust in the dirt. The fine, flour-like granules blew into a tiny cloud and wafted on the air currents along the tops of the more grainy, sandy gravel and grit of the box canyon.
He held it up to his eyes, narrowed them, and rubbed his fingertips over it.
His brows drew lower over his face beneath the brim of his battered hat, and he tugged it lower on his head. He rubbed his hand over his stubble-crusted chin.
Not far. Somewhere in the canyon, probably.