I stand on the soft earth in the evenings dingy shadows, under the trees looking into the ferns and brush. Somewhere down there I hear movement, cracking twigs, the slush of wet leaves slowly rubbing against each other. I duck down under a cedar tree to wait for it to reveal itself or fade away.
Above the hillside light is fading into grayness of dusk and distant clouds are turning golden pinks, nature is telling me to watch for night.
I settle back on my feet and lean on a root in the hillside behind me, the musk of the rich under forest fills the air, moss, decay, and new green life all mixed together.
No sounds are coming up the hill at me, so I stand again, and slide my pack higher on my shoulders, and tentatively take some steps down the hill towards the trail out… towards where the sound was, towards where home lies.
Smells of cedar fill my senses, and in the dark of the forest remain its secrets.
Intense, aromatic, and mysterious. Nature hides in blackness, and I hurry up towards home.