Through the forest
This way...
In the forest at 6am, the sun already warm. No dew on the grass, and dragonflies already on the wing. Chiffchaffs and coal-tits singing, and wrens blasting out arias: tiny birds with a song loud enough to knock down a passing human.
Max and I mostly skulk in the shade, along the narrow tracks through the young conifer plantations, where the air is resin-scented, and the ground is soft with needles.
