Into the Unknown

A thick coating of leaves is spread over the forest floor; the air is soaked with a tingling, fresh scent. My footfalls are nearly silent as I enter this mysterious, dark forest. A single white flower pokes its way out of the dense carpet, and its existence makes me smile.
It has been three days since I have arrived at land. The moment I stepped out of my rowboat, the frothing green sea snatched it away, leaving me alone. I did the only thing I could; I went forward. Onward, into the unknown.
A silver mist soon blurs everything into a solid gray. I can see only a foot in front of me, and blindly I go on. A rustle in the bushes catches my attention, but there is nothing I can do. I concentrate on my senses -- seeing now is impossible.
Smell . . . that smell still hangs in the air, cool and wet now because of the mist. Is . . . is that smoke? I shake my head. My nose deceives me. I begin dreaming of a thick, warm soup.
Hear . . . yes, now that I concentrate, I notice a distant sound, something I cannot put a name on. It is not footsteps, nor the noise of some beast of the forest. Oh, what is it?
Feel . . . the fog now presses on my skin, and I pull my cloak around myself in protection. A single, lonely wind sighs through the trees, bringing with it a moment of warmth and the smell of soup. My imagination seems to have taken a hold of me, thwarting my senses.
But no! The mist seeps away and disappears, leaving me five steps away from a clearing, where a fire crackles and snaps in the pit, and a pot bubbles thick with soup over it. Young people, clad in soiled, warrior attire, sit around the fire and talk freely, their smiles shining light more than the largest fire could ever make.
I walk into the clearing, and am greeted by these people, as if this were a regular happening. "Come, friend, join us," they invite.
I accept the offer and am surrounded by warmth, laughter, smiles, and soup. It is dreamlike, and it does not last for long, for the nomads are soon on their way again.
I wave farewell, and their figures vanish into the mist. The soup is gone, the fire trampled out, and the laughter has left me by myself. But the light -- their welcoming smiles -- this I keep. I hold the memory close to me, clinging to its warmth as the mist surrounds me again.
And I journey on. Onward, into the unknown . . .