It is late November, almost one week after the end of the seasonal deer hunt.
I wander out into the forest to check for the tracks of animals which have survived the hunt.
The forest is like a good book, it draws you in and makes you want to turn the next page.
As I wander, the tracks I leave in my wake become part of the forest.
Those same tracks become words to the animals reading them.
I become part of their story as they become part of mine.