Emberwood where did the good people go

Tagging @Saucy but this is open to anyone.

The landscape wasn't so different from place to place, but even the inexperienced cinnamon roll could recognize the changing of the season; a darkening to the sky, the gradual glow of the trees as they ignited with shades of yellow, orange, and mottled red.

He'd found a ridge with a thick forest in the late evening the night before — Sweet, the poor boy, had been so tired that he'd fallen asleep as soon as he'd fashioned himself a little crevice among the roots. Upon waking he was overwhelmed by the glorious sight of the sunlight glittering off of the faceted leaves; he watched with wonder as the dust drifted in the beams, felt his eyes gloss with tears at the beauty of the nameless woodland, and was captivated.

Sweet mindlessly followed the shapes of tiny birds between the branches. He listened to their sweet songs, even tried to mimic them with some lazy humming, but as soon as his deep voice penetrated the still morning air the rest of the forest seemed to quiet. He felt a great sadness fill his chest upon realizing he had frightened the pretty little birds, and promptly stopped his attempt to keep a tune.