The rain had stopped for the moment, gathering strength for the night’s downpour as the setting sun flared briefly through the clouds. The damp brought out the smell of the earth, mixing with the mushrooms and leaf litter and the ever-present scent of pine. There was a faint tang of woodsmoke, too, bringing with it the promise of a warm, dry cabin when the night and the rain closed in. We sat, exhausted, covered in wet leaves and dirt, looking out over the lake as half the forest woke and the other half settled down to slumber. Loon calls gave way to the hooting of owls, and as the light faded the sky was threaded with bats streaming from somewhere on the western shore. Night fell around us.