One hundred… It is exactly one hundred hind-steps from the nearest mushroom growths to my place. It borders the birch forest and the much darker, older trees of the First forest. The small area is marked by a single tree surrounded by a barren reddish brown patch of earth. You cannot see anything unusual, perhaps the seemingly endless grasses of the bright birches world and the rolling hills and a few birds here and there. I've brought only one deer to this place, but a great many fawns. It is partly shaded by the oaks and partly exposed to the sun…all the more to love.
I suppose you'd like me to stop chasing after sparrows and tell the tale already. I must warn you that this is nothing for the younger ears. It is one of the few stories I will never tell to even the most curious of the fawns. Since you ask and persist (but mostly because you bring honey comb), I will tell you.