Okay, I need to rant.

Epic Fail.

So I was writing on a chapter yesterday, and I can't exactly remember what I wrote. But I was tired. And I was really focused on sleep. And I knew what I wrote probably was terrible. So today that got confirmed. Here I give you 500 words of 'the-writer-is-obviously-only-thinking-about-sleep-right-now. Enjoy your cringing! (ALSO, you are allowed to count the cliches in this. Wow)

As the final word got said, silence sank over the crowd. In the distance the sun was sinking, colouring the clouds red as blood. The forest's animals had stopped talking, and was now finding a place to rest for the night. It was over. The day, the funeral, it had all come to an end.

The night was coming, together with peace. Even thought the world was falling apart, it felt like, in the exact moment, that all the chaos had been paused. Like the silence before the storm, everything seemed okay, if only for a moment. Because in the night, together with the precious sleep, nothing could touch them. Nothing could harm them.

Slowly people seeped away from the fresh dug grave, all retiring from the night. Grover's eyelids had begun to feel heavy, and his thoughts sluggish. Everything that had happened, had drained him completely. He looked around, scanning the area after a place to sleep. His eyes caught sight of a juniper bush, without any dryad connected to it, not that far away, and instantly he knew that was the spot. The bush created an flawless illusion of privacy, without being too far away from the others.

The perfect sleeping place, he could had hoped for.

Retiring for the night, he said his farewells to the remaining group. He couldn't remember what words had got exchange, because his thoughts was only focused on one thing: sleep. Wonderful peaceful sleep.

As he arrived to the spot, he let with slightly thud the rucksack fall to the ground, first now realising how much it had weighted him down. His first impulse was to lie down in the grass and forget anything, but his rumbling stomach reminded him that he had forgotten to eat dinner earlier. With an exasperated sight he opened his rucksack, looking trough his supplies. Luckily he still had some tin cans left, and on an afterthought he picked up his red pipes too. Perhaps with some help from nature magic he could perhaps create a softer bed.

Putting the red pipes for his mouth, his thoughts sluggishly wandered to Camp and the good old days. The days where he would sit besides a juniper much like this, laughing together with his friends, his hands in Juniper's. Towards the days, where smiles came easy and everything seemed like it would be all right.

And without even having to think, a bittersweet melody left the pipes. He didn't know the song, and he defiantly wasn't doing nature-magic, but the moment seemed so peaceful that it didn't matter. It was only him, the music and the smell of juniper.

It was only when the song ended, that he realised the rest of the nature spirits had been listening too. Some of them were smiling, tears rolling down their cheeks and others were sitting with closed eyes, as if they too were remembering the better days. The ground underneath hadn't gotten softer, but it didn't matter. Because in that moment he couldn't help but feel, that music could be it's own kind of magic.

The nature spirits didn't comment the music, they just all went back to what they were doing. But as Grover sat and munched on the tin-can, he couldn't help but observe, that they all somehow seemed more at peace than before. On that happy note, he fell asleep.