On the appointed day, they set off for the mountain. The godfather walked with a steady stride despite his age, a man well-versed in the trails and shortcuts. Autumn was in full swing, and the rains had soaked the earth. The long-awaited moment had arrived. A pine forest nestled in the shade awaited them. Bushes grew wild, along with the occasional holm oak and the finest mushrooms in the region. The godfather's godfather knew the place, and his great-godfathers before them. The man bent down and showed his grandson how to pick them, always with respect and gratitude. Before leaving, with his basket full, he pointed out the landmarks so they could return when he was gone; markings on the trees and stones, invisible to others. The secret had been passed down.