A sky of emerald green has sat upon me since my youth. The trees as are countless walls to rooms without an end within the deepest woods of my youth, the sky appearing subtly behind leaves of green or golden red.

And when the winter comes the sky is white and the trees all grey and black, as though a cold flame had touched them in the night to render their branches bare.

It had been so in all my youth and all my younger days, living in the shadow of such giant trees which ripped at all the clouds. I had thought the world knew this as all there could ever be, until the day I went too far to stumble across some fields.

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