The writer's walk

 --III--

He still had 8 hours to rest. That would do. The sun would rise in 10.

The weather was very comfortable and he enjoyed the sensation of movement after having spent all day behind a desk. A pair of eyes looked at him from up a tree. He looked up at it having sensed that he was being watched. He tried to discern the shape of the creature but could only catch a glimpse of a brownish orange tail as it moved swiftly away. He bent down to pick up a pebble that had rolled down to where he stood. Something or someone had caused it to move.