[ POV Change ]
As the golden sun dipped low in the sky, casting warm amber rays through the forest's vibrant tapestry of reds, oranges, and yellows, Viracocha and I found ourselves seated on a mossy, fallen log. The forest floor, blanketed by a crisp carpet of fallen leaves, emitted a faint, earthy scent that harmoniously blended with the heady aroma of freshly brewed tea.
The grand trees, their branches swaying gently in the soft autumn breeze, formed a magnificent canopy overhead, filtering the sunlight and casting dappled shadows that danced along the ground. The air was cool and crisp, a refreshing contrast to the warm tea that filled our cups.
As we sat, savoring the subtle flavors of the tea, we were serenaded by the forest's symphony; birdsong intertwined with the rustling of leaves, the distant trickle of a babbling brook, and the occasional rustle of a small woodland creature scurrying through the underbrush.
