The road was narrow.

But in the forest, the pine trees shuddered overhead, speaking in a rustling language of whispers and silent touches of leaf to leaf.

The entire forest was still, a placid lake of green and shimmering emerald, that seemed to melt from one tree to the ground and all over again.

Where one thing began and another ended was inscrutable.

A flurry of jade arose in one corner, aroused by a small gust of wind that coaxed it from the ground gently.

The sky was overcast with clouds, and hopeful signs that the much awaited rains were to arrive.

The mist hung over the ground and clung to the branches of the trees and plants like an ethereal cloak, concealing anything that did not want to be seen.

A hushed symphony of whirling petals played around the gnarled roots of the oak tree.

The crows, roosting at the topmost branches, gave harsh cries that gave a mystique to the air; a time warp took place here – here, time stood still.

Eh? The road ahead, you say?

The road was simply narrow.