The wanderer had no memory of his past (if, indeed, he had any past at all). In fact, he couldn't recall any time when he had not been lost in these woods. But he knew that somewhere beyond this dark expanse he must have a home, a place of calm and warm familiarity, peopled with friendly kith and kin. He had often tried finding his way back home, wherever or whatever that home might be, by the sun and the guiding stars in their courses. It was no good. All his attempted navigation brought him was an uneasy sense that he was straying farther from his home; that instead of escaping this strange forest he was plunging ever deeper into it. If only his surroundings weren't so confusing and overwhelming; it was far too easy to lose oneself forever in them.
Then, at twilight on a drizzly, windswept day, he stumbled upon a crumbling high bank near a river. At its base was a cave almost undetectable by obscuring shadows and vegetation, and in the cave's farthest recess he could just barely discern ... what? ... could it be a door? He stood staring at it in wonder for some minutes until the ever-growing shadows of approaching evening roused him.
He cautiously studied the thing in the shadows. Yes, he could make it out now, even through the overhanging vegetation and deepening gloom. It really was a door. How could a door be here, and who could have made it? He felt ... what? ... awe, fear, wonderment? So many emotions ... or instincts ... that he could not name. The door was deep inside the hollow, but from what he could see of it through the overhanging vegetation, he estimated it was roughly six feet tall and three feet wide and seemed to be made of pine. He then became aware of the scent of freshly-turned earth. That caused him to pause once more, although he could not understand why. He roused himself again, took a deep, shuddering breath, and clawed and shoved his way through the entangling roots and vines blocking the cave's entrance.
He broke through. The smell of turned earth was even stronger now. He strained his eyes in the darkness but was no longer able to see the door. Instead, where he thought it had been, where he could have sworn it had been, he now saw a figure. The wanderer stood transfixed, too amazed to be frightened. Somehow the figure was lighter, more distinct than it should be in the surrounding dark, as if it were somehow bioluminescent. The wanderer shook his head. The very idea was absurd. The figure was obviously human ... yet, it was visible in the darkness.
The two stared at each other for a minute or so. Then the figure reached out his hand to the wanderer and smiled. That smile! Even in the darkness there was something about that smile, something wonderful. The wanderer was caught in that smile like a child caught in his parent's loving arms. And then, with a sudden, rushing revelation, he understood. Now smiling himself, he happily realized he was home now ... finally, absolutely home. The figure's smile was the wanderer's home. He now knew it had aways been his home, even when he didn't know it even existed, it was always his home. "Home," the wanderer whispered unconsciously, "home, finally home!" He reached out his hand toward the figure's just as the mouth of the cave collapsed, sealing him off from the woods.
