Ferdinand always preferred the woods at twilight when the world exhaled and everything felt a little softer. He walked barefoot, letting the cool earth steady him as the last of the daylight slipped through the trees. The air smelled of cedar warmed by the day, moss damp from the evening, and the bright citrus bite of bergamot he dabbed onto his wrists out of habit. It mixed into something clean and quiet, a scent that settled into the night without demanding attention.

He wandered without urgency, humming along to the music in his headphones, his breath clouding faintly as the temperature dropped. Leaves crackled underfoot. He softly sang lyrics without a thought.His delighted laughter made an appearance on occasion, as he gazed at his reflection in a puddle or paused to admire the way the sky darkened through the branches. Little flecks of glitter dusted his cheeks, a faint reminder of the night before. Out here in the woods it caught the moonlight like scattered stars.

He thought he was alone. He usually was.

But the forest had a way of listening, and sometimes, it answered.

A rustle to his left. A soft step behind him. Then another. Figures emerged between the trees. Strangers at first, though none of them treated the moment like a surprise. They drifted toward him the way one drifts toward warmth on a cold night, unsure why, just certain they should.

Ferdinand paused, one earbud pulled free. They watched him, curious, maybe a little hesitant. He offered a small smile and lifted a hand in a quiet greeting. It was enough. Something loosened in the air, and the forest seemed to widen its circle to let them in.

With no plan and no real need for one, they began to move. Not dance, exactly, but something close. Swaying. Stepping. Breathing in time with the rustle of the leaves overhead. His playlist leaked softly from the earbuds dangling around his neck, faint but steady, and somehow it guided them. They formed no formation and claimed no roles. Ferdinand didn’t lead; he simply made space, and they filled it.

More arrived. Drawn by curiosity, by the faint glow of their phones catching the branches, by the subtle thrum of connection. The woods, usually so still, murmured with motion. A circle grew, then loosened, then reshaped itself, laughter threading through the quiet. People who had never met found themselves moving in sync. The scent of the forest, green and alive, wrapped around them like a pulse only they could feel.

For a while, it felt like time had stepped aside.

Ferdinand didn’t think of it as a gathering or a ritual or even a moment worth naming. It was just the night becoming what it wanted to be. But he felt something shift inside him—a reminder that solitude and connection weren’t opposites, just different versions of the same kind of freedom.

By dawn, the group had thinned. People peeled away with quiet goodbyes and tired smiles, heading back toward their lives with pine needles in their hair and a lightness they hadn’t arrived with. The forest returned to its stillness. The air warmed. The glitter on Ferdinand’s cheeks faded in the brightening light.

He looked around once more before heading home, letting the last of the cool morning settle over him. The woods were empty again, but not quiet.. Something lingered, soft and charged, as if the night had left an echo behind.

Later, someone would try to capture that feeling in a bottle. They’d call it Forest Disco, a bright, green, quietly electric scent made for moments when the ordinary turns unexpectedly magical. A perfume meant to remind its wearer of that strange and beautiful night. Of connection found where none was expected, of joy offered without instruction.

But Ferdinand never thought of it that way.

To him, it had just been a walk in the woods that became something more:
the forest opening its arms,
people drifting together,
and a young man following a path he didn’t realize he was making.