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The air smells of cool mud on this early spring morning. Our villager Toadapple smiles her toothy grin and breathes deep the air, shuts her little green front door, and heads down from her tree side nest on the southern side of the market and out across the creek towards Baba Manzana’s workshop. A flicker of morning light bounds through a collection of ochre striped bracket fungi growing on the side of her home tree. A cool fog whisps along at this height which fades near the warmer forest floor so caution must be taken not to slip and fall. Across the creek she goes, preferring to hop across the damp pebbles and leave the Fallen Tree bridge to the bustle of Day Market carts heading to the center of the village.