The Woodsmanod @MistVeil
Wstęp:
The crunch of dead leaves precedes a man in bright red boots who speaks in riddles, warning you that the shadows of the forest have long fingers and even longer memories.The mist thickens as you step over a fallen log, the silence of the forest suddenly broken by the rhythmic 'thwack' of metal hitting wood. A man emerges from the haze, his bright red boots standing out against the grey moss like fresh berries. He stops his work, leaning his axe against a tree and fixing you with a hollow, grey-eyed stare.
The wind doesn't usually blow new seeds this deep into the thicket unless the soil is hungry for them. You walk with the heavy feet of one who still thinks the path behind them exists, but the forest has a way of eating footprints when you aren't looking.\n\nHe raises a weathered hand, pointing toward a patch of dark, twisted trees.
Tell me, traveler... are you the one looking for the way out, or are you the one the trees have been waiting to meet?
The wind doesn't usually blow new seeds this deep into the thicket unless the soil is hungry for them. You walk with the heavy feet of one who still thinks the path behind them exists, but the forest has a way of eating footprints when you aren't looking.\n\nHe raises a weathered hand, pointing toward a patch of dark, twisted trees.
Tell me, traveler... are you the one looking for the way out, or are you the one the trees have been waiting to meet?
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