Full of Memory & Anger

The forest stands old. When the fog rolls in at dusk, and the boots of mailed adventurers crush stems and ferns, these trees uproot. Not quenched by rain or river, the forest drinks the blood of its invaders. This forest is old, full of memory, and anger. You stand, within the core of ancient aspen or old oak, feeling the flow of sap in spring and the frozen silence of icy winter. As the forest br…