Peat captures the stillness after the flame—the quiet hush of a spent bonfire under a sky full of stars. It’s the scent of damp earth and cooled embers, of wild places walked and remembered. Oak moss anchors it with a deep, grounding green; charcoal lingers like smoke woven into fabric, softened by time. And just at the edges, violet drifts in—unexpected, delicate, like a half-forgotten dream caught in the breeze.

It’s a scent of aftermath and earth, of fire gone quiet and the world holding its breath. Rugged, tender, and utterly rooted in the wild.