For what it was worth, the forest remembered you, Kara Walsh.

The light shifted, catching on leaves that glimmered faintly silver before dimming again as clouds passed overhead. It was not the sort of shine that lingered but more a suggestion of it… as though something beneath bark and soil had once learned how to reflect natural light and never quite forgot.

Somewhere beyond sight, something tall shifted its weight, and a dull thud of earth that had been pressed and repressed over long years might have reached your ears if you were listening intently enough. The ground here felt older, cooler, threaded with stone that had known night far longer than it had known sun…

The air carried the unspoken suggestion of this way, the light - fleeting as it was - seemed to fall again and again on the same patch of forest floor like a spotlight



Aurora’s enthusiasm did not go unnoticed.

The mushrooms clustered at the tree’s base appeared, upon second or third glance, to be arranged less by some careful design and more by good timing. Roots had obligingly arched away, moss thinned where it mattered, and the space looked just right for a brief pause. When you sit to shake dirt from your shoe, the stump beneath you gives a small obliging creak like old wood settling as if accustomed to being sat upon..

It was then that the toadstools made their move. A faint hop here, a soft plip there, red caps shifting by inches at first and then by feet, taking advantage of the distraction to relocate to fresher ground and away from eager fingers. One might almost have sworn they’d been waiting for you to sit down.


The root did have impeccable timing.

It rose just enough, just when it needed to and when you landed, the forest seemed almost to exhale. Leaves from the tree rustled in what just might be quiet satisfaction. The shiny thing you had been pursuing caught the light once… then twice… then again, though not with the clean, silvery gleam one might expect were it, in fact, unicorn hair. This was a subtler shimmer, stretched rather than solid, glinting differently depending on how you moved. Unicorn hair would most certainly be blown away by the breeze, but this lingered under tight tension and drawn fine between bark and branch…

High above, where the canopy thinned into patches of sky, causing the shadows in your periphery to shift. Something altered its stance for a better angle, careful not to grant you the same courtesy. Or perhaps several somethings did. It was difficult to tell.


The forest apparently had opinions about your robes. Whatever caught the hem did so with decisive certainty - how curious. When the fabric tore and you met the ground, the earth met you with unexpected kindness, as if it had prepared for the impact - again, how curious.

At your side, a low mat of green shifted with the passing breeze, stems weaving over and through one another in delicate and intricate patterns. The leaves were small but resolute, spreading wide despite their height, clinging to everything and showing off dainty pink and white flowers.

Somewhere just out of sight, a low huff of breath stirred the undergrowth, followed by the sound of hooves turning away.




The greenery before you shifted again… but not because of the breeze. What had seemed no more than layered leaves and tangled stems slowly distinguishes itself, edges sharpening as color deepened into living green. Slender limbs uncurl from bark and moss, joints bending where twigs had no right to bend, their hue fresh and vivid, like new growth that had learned how to move.

Small dark eyes blinked as they fix upon the fallen feathers. A flurry of quick, precise scuttles, brief flashes of motion across the forest floor, and the feathers were scooped up in narrow, leaf fingered hands. Gleeful chitters accompanied the retreat as the little figures darted back toward the trees and only the absence on the ground marked where they had been.