I don’t know what I expected, exactly.
As we moved through the woods, I admit that this . . . wasn’t it.
Treehouses by the dozens—intricate, with plants and flowers planted on the roofs, hanging down the walls with thick, green vines. Magical wasn’t the right word for it. And, as people started stepping out of them, eyes cast down upon us, curious, I realized that I wasn’t particularly welcome.
Narrowed eyes, whispers. The adults seemed skeptical.
Children in the foliage, playing about, and . . . animals.
There were so many animals.
Squirrels, chipmunks, variations of birds, and deer.
There were deer just mingling about, unafraid.
And one turkey which gobbled at me as we neared it.
“Hush, Kartik,” Roy shooed at it, making it’s wings flapped.
