The Heartwood I'm so Used to Being In The Wrong

Dreven woke in the early morning light, and immediately he began to pant. Brutally the sun leered down at him. Pressing. Suffocating. Searing. He panted harder, and shifted his large body. Through the barren trees he shifted and swerved, finally finding one with close enough span to it's brother that he could lay in the shade.

Gray ash dusted upon his brown coat, leaving splashes of color peeking out from whitewashed stripes. Gently he allowed himself to fall to the ground, prone. Body splayed out, large and spaced. Shadows danced along the valleys of his body. And he closed his red eyes. Enjoying the moment of reprieve.