Cedar Bivouac

I unlatched my chest harness and eased the pack frame down into the dry pocket behind the split cedar post. Dead weeds screened the opening from the open field. Leaning back against the curving interior bark, I stood my rifle against a dry root flare within arm's reach. Fine cedar shavings carpeted the floor. I gathered a small cluster of windblown thistle fluff from the back crease and compressed it into a low headrest against the wood. With my gloves loosened and my visor shifted to low-ambient intake, the field noise faded to a muted hum. Zero exposure. Holding here until first light.