Forest Floor Encounter

A mature buck works his nose across the forest floor, head low, reading the scent trail left by whoever passed through before him. The hardwoods have dropped everything—bare branches reaching overhead while the leaf litter glows copper in the soft afternoon light. Smooth beech trunks frame the scene, pale against the warm tones of late autumn. It's a quiet moment, no urgency, just a buck doing what bucks do when they think they're alone. The kind of encounter that ends before it starts if you snap a twig.