The year turns a little closer to winter, the leaves on the trees begin to fall and the nights are chilly.
He lights a fire for the first time, and sits with a blanket over him, falling asleep staring at the embers.
In the morning he wakes early and tries to shake the dreams from his memory. Then, taking the compost bin, he goes outside and walks bare foot to the edge of the forest.
A donkey watches him.
He looks at his compost; a mouldy courgette lies there.
He picks it up, offering it to the donkey but she turns her head.
Her name is Biscuit; they have known each other for just over a year.
He knows that she prefers carrots.
But he used them for a hot soup last night.
The first soup of the season.
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