The forest. Trixie has built the manger and is hammering the last few nails in place. Her hair white uncombed. It actually kinda pretty. In a unkempt kinda way. Saten stays in the back, smoking a jointas he's not needed. And feel "needs one"
Narrator: And out in the woods the boy steamed right ahead, making a place for the critter babe to lay its sweet head.
Trixie: (to Saten) Any more of those?
Saten: You smoke?
Trixie: not til just now.
Saten: Good point (passes the joint to her and she uses it) May wanna take it slow. Your first time using it sense that hippy concert you went too.