The way of the world
I flew through the woods, my staff clutched firmly in my hands. The trees sang out to me in their soft language, guiding me as I passed by.
I was almost there, to my home. I reached my destination, a narrow opening in the midst of the gnarled roots of an old oak tree. I slid into the hole, humming a welcome to the oak.
In the Den was a large cavern, with a small willow tree in the center. Three passageways branched off to other rooms, all part of the Den. A beam of moonlight appeared through the roots growing on the ceiling, hitting the small willow in a shower of light.
"Just in time, MiM, as always," I say with a smirk, as I started to walk around the tree, tapping my staff around it as I did. When I had gone three times around, I stopped, turning to the tree and sitting down. Then I started to sing. I sang about the forest and the winter, my rich voice filling the whole of the Den.
Frost is coming, Winters here,
The trees are sighing, The time is near
Leaves are falling, branches bare,
The trees are sleeping,
Winters here
I trailed off at the end of the song, my head drooping. I raised my staff, then brought the thing back down, the soft thud it made echoing in my head as the roots at the entrance to the Den closed up.
"The trees are sleeping..."
And I, Kya Green, am too.