As he walked through the windy forest, he listened thoughtfully to the wailing trees whilst the wind passed through their branches, as if the world was playing an instrument of its own.
The crisp, crunching of the scarlet leaves gave him a whimsical satisfaction that could not be explained.
The sun is disappearing more and more, he must leave this place.
The cawing crows flocked overhead. The squirrels have scurried into their abodes in the trees. The owls have approached their stations on the branches and chant their nightly lullabies, the crickets have joined in. They duet through twilight.
A new face has approached the skies, a face of alabaster. It's time to go home. Where is home?