18 January 2013
Slick sycamore branches entwine with one another, forming a woven bridge of natural perfection for the floral wood mice to lazily wander along, completely content with doing nothing as an every day chore. The leaves of strong, ancient oaks tumble to the crisp undergrowth of the forest floor, spiralling in the wind sent down from Accalania the knowing, making their final voyage before beginning their life cycle again; waiting for the sprites to reshape them as seeds to weather any storm. Rising in the north was the purple sun, casting a dreamy glow onto the canopies of the tallest and most wise trees of them all, waking them with a breath to calm the oceans. The mice scamper towards the most unique, wooded being of them all, curiously and excitedly thinking of the wonders it will behold for their funny little lives today. This being is none other than The Grand Yew, as tall as a thousand mountains, stronger than the fittest horse and more beautiful than all of life's miracles combined... This magnificent wonder to behold was known as the tree of wondrous foresight, as it supplies the woodland creatures that roam it's land with the nourishment they require through a combination of tastes and smells and sounds, whilst providing them with any adventure they've dreamt of beholding. But the reason this god among life is called such, is because it does all of these things before the mice and all their other companions know they want what the tree is offering them.
That is the beauty of The Forest.
The Forest. • Opuss № I