An illustration practice. Here’s a little story, too, or at least some kind of description.
They stood at the edge of the canyon, watching the water below. The red sky felt comforting, as always, and their little house was waiting on top of the hill on the other side. The journey had been long, but they were finally home.
As they walked over the long bridge, they heard the familiar sounds of the birds welcoming them, unknowing of the dangers they had been threatened by. It was like nothing had ever happened, like nothing had changed.
-Do you think it will stay away? the little boy asked his father.
-I hope so, he answered, but deep inside he felt a lingering fear, a knowledge he could not escape. -I sure hope so.