I've learned the path to the Wood, tangled darkness that grows around the walls of the Mansus (thought the Mansus has no walls). I can Dream with this to return to the Wood.
Now I pass between scar-barked trees. The moon passes behind branches, though her fingers remain in my hair. I am stumbling over roots, now. It is tempting to drop to all fours, to avoid the low branches. Pale wings move, deep in the night.
a mirror
