Getting Sidetracked in Paradise
Story and photos by Andew Cremata
Under the canopy of the forest, the morning light was muted and dim. Spruce needles crunched underfoot and scents of fall permeated the still air. It was the smell of a salmon spawn in its final stage, a foul-sweet odor that came and went with no obvious means of conveyance. There were silhouettes among the trees, tall and narrow, yet they bore no leaves and were obviously carved by hand. One of the totems displayed the profile of a raven at its crown and a hint of color along its edge. This content is available for subscribers only.
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