Deep in the woods, a cabin sits with an early-morning fire producing a column of smoke that rises from its chimney. An older Enna steps out onto the porch, her eyes closed and ears open, listening to the din of the forest and the taking in the smell of the morning. She opens her eyes contently, then calmly sets about looking for something in the yard before her. She grins when she finds it...

A young boy with black hair, her son, is splashing about in a stream at the edge of the trees. Enna watches him as he finds a fairly long and straight stick nearby and picks it up. He plays with it, twirling it around in his hands. Enna folds her arms, peacefully leans against the wall of her cabin, and looks out at the horizon, where the sun now begins to rise again.