It moved as if carried by light itself — pausing only long enough to be seen before floating onward, unchanged and entirely new.

The rain had passed, but everything felt newly awake — colors deeper, air cleaner, the land briefly revealed as it truly is.

This time, the bobcat did not vanish. It lingered — not in fear or dominance, but in recognition. Two lives sharing a moment of quiet knowing.

For a brief moment, the grasshopper stayed still — perfectly attuned, legs coiled with possibility. Nothing was rushed. Everything was ready.

They arrived without announcement — a quiet confirmation that some bonds to place are never broken, only paused.

Still unmarked by fear, the fawns watched with wide eyes and steady breath — learning the world through presence rather than defense.