The first birdsong came with the dawn that uncoiled the crimson sky. Long, golden shafts thrust down to the earth, piercing the branches and leaves. The sun sent in its warmth creeping over the dew on the leaves. The forest began to come to life. Slowly and surely the sun replaced the cold of the night.
A small crack split the forest, a path rarely traversed. This path had never been sealed. Here and there, shafts of light were more plentiful, revealing the brown earth. Huge trees protected this place. The earth was damp. The age of the trees was reflected in their huge trunks and the wrinkled, blackened bark. Storytellers say that back in the times of the Batak ancestors, marga groups withdrawing from the centre of Batak lands passed through this very forest.