When a hare jumps up from the ditch, unexpected like a jack-in-the-box, and hops across the road, onto a narrow footpath snaking into the trees into the forest, I follow it without thinking. Its gray-brown fur is shiny and healthy-looking, and it’s a quick little thing, hard to keep up with. Soon it disappears into the underbrush, leaving me with a faint rustle.
“Bye,” I call after it but don’t turn back even after I lose my new little friend. I continue wandering along the path. It’s new to me, and I dart my eyes around, trying to take in everything at once. The moss growing on the trees. The lingonberry bushes. The huge anthill crawling, boiling, with red ants sends a shiver down my spine as I give it a wide berth. Rays of sun filter through the foliage, illuminating random spots on the
