The path was winding and familiar. Each step mirrored the last, yet the rustle of leaves whispered tales of the unseen. As I walked, the air hummed a timeless tune, a melody looping like a broken record. Left foot, right foot, each pattern a step within a greater symphony.
Do you remember the bridge? It stood proud and creaking, a sentinel of the ancient woods. I crossed it thrice, yet upon revisiting, it appeared anew, cloaked in morning mist, its structure unchanged but eternally different. Shadows danced differently with each passage of time. I wondered how many iterations of the bridge were hidden from me above, beneath, all around.
The sun, too, was a trickster. It played hide and seek between the branches, sometimes illuminating old roots crawling across the trail, sometimes shrouding the world in soft twilight. Why does the forest keep its secrets like this? My feet continued, driven by an unseen force, ever forward into the cycle.
Each creature I encountered wore a mask of familiarity, yet something in their eye told me stories untold. The hare, the fox, the forgotten owl all bound by threads invisible but palpable. Their paths intertwined with mine, crossing and recrossing, weaving a narrative neither of us could fully see.
Return to the unseen circle Follow the echo further