It is a cloudy autumn afternoon and I find the nice clearing in the woods I have always relaxed in and I sit down, tucking my legs beneath me. The woods were always quiet around this time, save for the twittering birds and the soft rustling of the trees, and I find I can clear my head and get away from reality much easier here with the canopies spreading out above to allow little light into the clearing. Taking a look around, there are a few dark green bushes growing at the bases of the tall trees surrounding me, but nothing growing on them for me to eat. I glance down and spot a few blades of the sweet grass I so fondly remember from my younger years, though I cannot place a name.
When I was much younger, my mother and I would walk along the boundary of the woods and eat any edible plants and fruits we found on the path. She taught me many things about the world around me. That path was barely worn down before the incident. That was when I understood the grief of death. Of course, I d