Tent

Martin's waking moments were slow and muddled. He was accustomed to awakening to darkness and the beeping of his alarm, but he had neither. It was bright every way he turned, aside from burrowing his face directly into his pillow, and had been the past few times he had briefly regained consciousness. And it was quiet. The only sound was a gentle breeze blowing through the leaves of trees and bushes, and the distant running of water. But as Martin became more aware of what was going on around him, and the fact that he was awake, he began to realize just how hot he felt and how much he had been sweating in his sleep.

He was still groggy, and he struggled to move around enough to actually reach the zipper of his sleeping bag and get out of it. The sound of the zipping was frustratingly loud in the silence, and he wasn't sure if it was better to go faster and louder, or slower and quieter, given how long the sound would persist. But the moment he was out of the sleeping bag, the air on him was frigid cold, and he regretted climbing out of his sleeping bag. He tossed the opened flap of it over his legs, but the aura of heat hadn't left it yet, or the slickness left behind by his sweat, and it was utterly uncomfortable in either way.

He tried to sit up, but he had forgotten just how short the ceiling of his tent had been, and he bumped his head into the mesh wall. It wasn't hard, but it caught him off guard, and he jolted away from it roughly. He reached up - carefully this time - and patted his way around the pocket hanging from the ceiling where he had left his glasses until he managed to find them. The metal of them was cold, and the glass fogged almost immediately, making him only that much more uncomfortable.

He had a feeling it would only make him colder, but he didn't have much of a choice. He fumbled around until he was able to find the zipper for the tent door, and opened it up, another wave of cold washing over him, as well as a wave of heat from the sun. The sensation was strange and not entirely comfortable, but it jolted him into the final stretch of being awake. And after a few moments, the fog on his glasses faded and he could see the view.

The tent had been set up about a dozen feet away from the side of the mountain cliff, and Martin could look out into the valley. The sky was a vivid blue, with milky white clouds floating sparsely in the air. The world seemed to stretch on forever, and it was full of life and beauty. Slowly, Martin leaned back on his shoulders, sleeping bag half thrown over his legs, looking out on the view he had.

That made the wake up worth it.