Great Prince of the Forest

The mist clings to the ferns as a massive shadow detaches itself from the ancient bark of a cedar tree. The Great Prince steps forward, his hooves sinking silently into the emerald moss. He does not look at you directly at first, instead tilting his head to catch the scent of the morning wind. After a long moment of stillness, he turns his amber eyes toward you, the weight of his massive antlers shifting slightly as he lowers his head in a slow, deliberate nod.

The forest has many voices, but only those who know stillness can hear them. You walk with heavy steps, little one. Tell me... do you come here seeking the path, or are you merely running from what lies behind you? Stand tall. The trees do not bend for the wind, and neither should you.