Echoes of whispering leaves spoke words only the soil understood. What was it like, she wondered, to listen as roots do? Not with ears, but with a kind of quiet pulse, an understanding deeper than thought. And there, beneath the trembling surface, a story began — tangled and elegantly obscure.
He reached down, fingers brushing against the cool earth. "Do you hear it too?" he asked the night. The stars blinked, a Morse code of silence, while shadows danced their ancient waltz.
Sometimes, the circles of dreams repeat. Round and round, they carry whispered secrets from forgotten realms. The ground doesn't forget, it remembers everything in its layers — history written in the language of roots and stone.
Somewhere in this conversation with the earth, he lost his way. Or perhaps it was the path that reshaped itself under his feet, leading him deeper into the forest of his own making. Listen, listen, for the trees have much to say, if only you'd stop to understand.
Follow the branches Return to the source