Child's gaze turns toward the copse of tall trees. In the vanishing light, a faint glow emanates from its center. The light permeates where darkness should hold true. In there, the Whispers are louder. In there, the Shadows are alive. In there is where Child must go. The falling leaves rain down in a wash of desiccated colors. The ground is blanketed with nature's artistic fire, yet the mossy path is clear. An opening appears in the thicket of trees. The Autumn Child ventures Into the Woods.
Crisp night air, dried leaves, aged oak, sweet pine, soft moss