Something is different about this part of the forest. Everything here seems almost alive, capable of intelligent thought. Anyone can easily sense that something is more alive about this part of the woods, but it takes a very tuned-in mind to realize that the trees are sad. The plants here are giving off such a strong sense of sorrow, I'm shocked that so few can feel it. Although the plants are all sadder here, there is one place where the sorrow is overwhelming and yet, there's a strong desire to protect; to guard. That second feeling is so strong and so overpowering, I'm afraid to go to that part of the ruins. But, when I finally summon up the courage to go there, the trees leave me alone although they did rustle warningly as I moved around slowly, looking for what it was that they were protecting. As I reached the top of the hill, a vine snaked around my waist and pulled firmly, stopping my progress. Fighting not to panic, I took a step back. "What you're protecting is up there, isn't it?" the vine unwrapped itself and bobbed once before creeping back into it's refuge. I cast one last look at the hill, yearning to go and see what it was they were protecting, but knew that it wasn't a good idea. I left the top of the hill untouched. Maybe one day, I'll know what it is that the plants so reverently protect. Until that day, I'll take it upon myself to protect the glade in any way that I can. There is something precious there or a memory of something precious.
