In there; where your eyes see, where winds pass by, where creatures of all kind live on.

Gargantuan barks of wood and leaves follow towards the eternal light of the sun, such greedy plants aren’t they?

The grass, as high as they are, wish to be just as beautiful as their neighboring flowers born of aged, and hardened stem— yet all life is beautiful as long as they bathe under the light of the eternal sun.

They hold these lands with grace, and war; some barks were struck by iron from unrecorded time, pieces of bones that were left to be grown by fungi— in rarer cases, they become one with the aged trees.

All life, even in death, shall remain alive under the rule of the woods and stars; to walk amongst these endless plants is a gift, to rest amongst them is a blessing, even when thy slumber will be your last.