Sleeping outside.

I woke up at dawn, on the ground in a sleeping bag, the warm down surrounding me like a fluffy cloud, the trees reaching for the sky above, the first rays of sun glinting through the branches. The evening before had seen the thrill of flying through the darkness on a bike, the peacefulness of relaxing by a fire, the pure, unadulterated happiness that comes with staring up at the brilliant stars on a clear night as the light of the slowly-dying fire dances on the tree trunks. I roll over to see a red lump beside me, fully-cocooned in his sleeping bag. I lay my head back down and quickly fall back into slumber.