Each step I take releases a soft crunch from the sun-baked leaves below me. The warmth of the sun finds its way through the sleeping trees' branches, finds its way to the small plants that stand-out green among the warm red and orange.

I look up from my dew-moistened shoes and make eye contact with a fawn standing just a few feet away. Apparently, neither of us bothered to look up from what we were doing; the berry-filled bush was quite a distraction for a young deer. My eyes wandered around in search of the mother, but I didn't need to look far; they joined together in company after seeing me stand there for a long while.

This is their home.

My home.

I smell a bit of warm smoke from the neighbor's bonfire; I turn around, and catch a glimpse of the orange flame burning in the distance, almost out of sight. I could almost feel the heat from the flames, almost grasp the distant conversation about family, friends.

And I hear a pattering of soft crunches from behind: the deer have left, back toward their home, deeper within the forest.

The sun was setting, and cast deep stripes across the trees. I looked up to see a blanket of clouds, mixed in with the orange sun and the darker, calling night.

What fortune I have to experience a whole different world, an old world, a pure world, right in my backyard! Alas, like the young fawn, it was time for me to go home, too.