A bonfire in the middle of a warm forest. People laugh as their echoes rattle in the valley. Tales of times long past are a lesser burden on the elderly. the trees lean in to listen. Like they listened to their fathers. The trees have their own tales. Maybe some other night. Stout birds snuggle around their children. The laughter a gentle lullaby. Familiar. The forest yawns. This is home. The breeze slowly stops running. The fire cools. trees sigh and relax their backs. The people fall asleep one by one. a mother rocks her baby. The setting stars take a last peek at it all. Sighing as they hide behind the mountain silhouettes. Tomorrow again. Another night. There is always tomorrow.

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