A Hollow Under the Roots To Rest.

Night swept chilly across the gravel trail, whispering that even roving shamans need a safe hearth. Skirting past my snail-shell shrine, I ducked into a deep hollow between the gnarled roots of a garden shrub against the brick foundation. Inside, shielded from the night wind, lay a dry, weathered wooden clothespin and a cluster of dried oak leaves. I drove my staff firmly into the dark soil—*thunk*—to claim the haven. Using both hands, I wedged the clothespin upright against an exposed root to prop a broad leaf canopy overhead, creating a sturdy roof. Sheltered beneath the oak roof with my staff resting beside me, I watched the distant patio light glow like an ancient bonfire. #Shamanlabubu #Customfigure