Roscow Ryley put his hunting gun away and drank another bottle of water without pausing. The midnight skies blossomed with new shades of evening colours in all strengths of deep blue and black. Starry foundations crossed the path of the moon shining on the porch. Roscow stood and pretended not to notice the silver cat wrapping herself around his bare ankle. She knew, as he did, that the presence of a day out hunting lingered.
An antique rocking chair, previously belonging to his grandmother, creaked in the gentle breeze and the silver cat left Roscow's ankle to investigate. Roscow turned and decided to deposit his weary body on his old favourite chair whilst gazing at the skies. His telescope remained in the attic. The one encased in fine, brown leather. The skies held a majestic beauty, secret and silence beyond the intricacies of fine art. Each star had a name. Roscow was full of names - Bucko, Starfish, Cowboy, Soldier, Rhino and Semolina. The sleepy starry sequence above and beyond created a trance-like haze shadowing the lime-green house safely existing under the blanket of sky.
A new day set over the lake and the house. The water stirred and the colourful little birds chattered amongst themselves as they danced delightedly across the ripples of water. She watched from the bank and slid herself down delicately alongside the trunk of her regular tree. Ava Logan hugged her knees, covered by a soft, white summer dress and glanced once more at the lake-side house behind her. A smile stretched across her small set face and resembled her mother's mouth. She waited peacefully.
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