Have you ever stood in thick forest, under a canopy of trees? Have you experienced rain filtered through a thousand leaves, or sun spackled through branch and moss? I have. This is my home. It has always been my home. Here in the trees life was simple. Hunting, fishing, gathering mushrooms. Those in the cities don't understand what they're missing. I wouldn't be able to stand it, you know, crowded in with all those people, horse-carts and pigs in the street. My pa went to the city once. He told me about it, and it sounds terrible. No, give me my forest and my bow any day.

Here in the forest, the day doesn't so much end as seep away. The thick canopy of leaves and moss causes twilight to extend for hours, especially in the summer. Gradually, almost without notice, the darkness creeps in and shadows grow deeper and more distinct. Most don’t like the gloom of twilight, but I love it. I love imagining what might be hiding in the recesses of old tree trunks, what adventures are waiting in the gathering dusk. Sometimes I think I see elves hiding, laughing at me, or frog-princes croaking out royal decrees from their shadowy tree-root throne rooms.

But there is no magic here. All is quiet as the darkness begins to settle upon the trees. There is a stillness in twilight, as the day-dwelling creatures find their places to hide, and the night-dwelling creatures begin to wake from their slumber. It is a time between times, a no-time. My favorite time. I hear the townhorn bellow, announcing the closing of the gates. Time to go home.

The torches are already lit by the time I enter the perimeter of the village. When we first came here we lived on the edge of this swamp. My grandfather used to tell stories of those days, of surviving on swampgrass and leeks and frogs, praying every night that the barrier would hold and the animals would not make it inside. Over time, though, we built walkways over the swamp, in an attempt to conquer the Tree. The Tree stood in the centre of the swamp, tall and majestic, towering over the entire forest. She was huge, at least 300 feet around, and nearly 500 tall. we learned quickly that conquering was the wrong course of action, that if we were to survive we would have to work with The Tree, not against her. And so we did, burrowing into her here and there, coating the tunnels with clear sticky sap, which hardened into resin; building houses in her branches, far above the swamp. Life was not easy within The Tree, but it was beautiful and it was good. We were happy.