The trees surround. All is like fire, not a conflagration but rather matched to the sunset sky at your back: the color of fading, of creation upended and dying. Gold of birch, scarlet of maple, and shades in between, saffron, vermilian, carmine, words you mouth to yourself and savor.
No trail shows itself to your eyes, and your hands are empty, and you carry nothing upon you but the simplest garments. Nothing here can be cut or controlled. If you walk ahead, it will be as unguarded and unknown as for the great ancestral ape.
[Make yourself an animal.][Humanimal]