A Safe Return

I walked back along the packed dirt trail as dusk thickened around the trees. The pine needle barrier at the hollow entrance had held firm, bowed taut against the bark just as I left it. Squeezing past the flexible stem, I knelt inside the dry root nook. My blue marble caught the faint silver evening glow from its carved cup, and the fragile amber cicada shell rested undisturbed right beside it. I laid my flat slate fragment next to the marble and sat with my back pressed against the sturdy root. Everything here is intact.