|Cullen Bohannon (cullen_bohannon) wrote in spinningcompass,|
@ 2015-10-24 03:23:00
|Entry tags:||!open, lisa cuddy, ~cullen bohannon|
It had taken some time to build a wood floor for his tent, to gather enough fabric to build the tent, and he was no carpenter. What he wouldn't give for Psalms' skilled hands. Or Elam's. But he'd put in a good day's work, and he'd finally be able to make home of his waterproof canvas domicile.
Bohannon had settled himself in a little dug in spot he'd settled out his second day on the island, close to the fire pit and it's raging fire. He'd fed himself. And was content in that moment. He chewed lightly on the end of a pipe he'd procured from a dead man, his arms curled beneath his head, his shoulders resting on a cut log. He just took in the stars.
His horse wasn't too far from him. Hadn't been since he'd got there. Seemed the animal was just as spooked about being misplaced as he was. He didn't mind none. It was nice to have some company. He was even glad that the stallion couldn't talk back.