Chameleon

Laying indistinguishably on a tree, a boy whose age barely passed that of the eight years' mark slept less than soundly.

Much less.

The boy was covered in a dried crust that matched perfectly with the tree's bark whose body was bathed in the dark veil of the night.

Stray beams of moonlight chased after his slumbering figure only to get tangled by the thick dress of trees, barely managing to plant soft silver kisses on his face.

Down below, and even in the air high above him, the animals of the forest danced to the savage tunes of nature unperturbed by the cycles of the drawn by celestial movements. However, for what meager clumps of sand stacked in the hourglass could offer, the boy knew stillness.

But inevitably, time trickled by and the last grain of sand fell within the other half of the hourglass. While soundless in its own plane of existence, for the boy, it was a muffled explosion of golden light that erupted suddenly from his eyes.