Copying Juvven’s gaze over the treetops at the edge of the shooting range, he saw the fields of Flanders before his inner eye. “Yes, the wide horizon…” The memory made the corners of his mouth curl slightly. “…and in the night, you lie there, snuggled into the hay, and there is this huge sky above you.” He stared into the past, ignoring Juvven swivel his head to watch him and continued, “Although you are in the middle of war, death, and destruction, you can positively feel the velvet of the dark vault above you. And in it, like falling coins or lights carried by other beings, twinkle the stars, beckoning you to lift your hand and touch them, to feel happy and safe with them.” He broke off and turned to Juvven, without seeing him, still lost in his memories. “They gave a sense of security and…hope, I think. As if the Earth and the sky cradled me, telling me I was protected by them.
Hazel, like nearly all wild animals, was unaccustomed to look up at the sky. What he thought of as the sky was the horizon, usually broken by trees and hedges.