Crow perched on the smooth back of the boulder like it was an old friend, one knee drawn up, tail draped lazily over the edge. The forest around him glowed with the deep reds and ember-bright oranges of mid fall, leaves drifting down in slow, spiraling descents, as if reluctant to let go of the day.

The sun had slipped beneath the tree line only minutes before, leaving a lingering band of honeyed light between the branches. In that tender in-between, the fireflies began their quiet dance, blinking to life among the roots and ferns like scattered sparks.

Crow breathed in the cool evening air, the scent of damp bark and fallen leaves settling comfortably in his chest. High above, the canopy swayed, letting thin ribbons of twilight filter down to touch the boulder where he sat.

He leaned back on his palms, ears tilting toward the soft rustle of night waking up. A smile tugged at the corner of his muzzle, small, private, perfectly content.

Up here, wrapped in autumn’s glow and firefly flicker, Crow felt like the whole forest was holding its breath with him, sharing a quiet moment meant for no one else.

And for a while, he simply watched the lights dance, letting the world settle gently into night around him.