Dew droplets cling to a furrowed brow, threatening to drip into my eyes. I do my best to ignore them. Focus is everything right now. I’m contemplating a hook, and my king side bishop is sweating. She’s played aggressively so far, and I don’t know to what ends she’s willing to go. She moves like a damn snake: unpredictable, yet frustratingly precise. I’m distracted again, this time by a shiver running down my spine. It’s mid morning, and we’re outdoors. Actually, we’re far from any doors, unless you count the tent flaps swaying in the breeze behind us.
A songbird cheers me on. Or… perhaps it’s mocking me. I don’t speak bird. But there I go again, being distracted. I reach out, and the moisture accumulated on my wrist flings from my elbow across the board as I make a daring and foolish move. I regret it as soon as she smirks and meets my eye, and I silently curse the bird. Must be on her side after all.
I shiver again. My bare back endures much of the frigid morning air, but my naked ass sitting on a large cold stone has it worse.