I keep a steady pace as I’m walking though the nearly illumonecent scenery. Towering leaves litter the ground, and thick trunks provide a stern but comforting presence. The sweet but tangy aroma of wild berries cloud my nostrils. Sketchbook in hand, I watch my steps— careful not to trip on any stray, risen tree roots. Firey flowers hide among their friends, challenging anyone to step on them. In return, they dare to leave temporary burn marks— as they do when I maneuver my way around the jumbled forest floor. I feel the familiar warmth of a resting sun radiating through the cracks of the busy canopy above me. A smile tugs at my lips as I silently slip into the clearing. I take a few steps before pausing, then looking up and allowing the sun to lick my face. Very few creatures are brave enough to roam even the edges of the clearing— fear sweeping them further into the bushes. Fear of what? You may ask. Fear of the sun that will burn them to dust on their first step. Only when the sun hides itself and the moon illuminates the ground below do the wolves and rabbits and fairies and waternymphs dare to show themselves. Each mystical creature would leap out from the bushes or leaves of the vast forest and chirp and squeak in pride, showing off their beauty and grace to the stars that applaud them from above. Dancing and chanting their rhythmic songs in millions upon millions of different languages, they’d sped their nights as if it were day for humans.