“Going to the woods is going home,
for I suppose we all came from the woods originally.”
— John Muir
for I suppose we all came from the woods originally.”
— John Muir
“I do not know where he is…”
Izara had arrived at Fenia two nights prior. Having traveled for some time from her mother’s forest she was greatly tired. A forest was near the town and there she found a small cabin. It must have been abandoned years ago as already the forest had grabbed it, forcing it back into the earth. “Don’t mind me,” she whispers to the trees. I will not hinder your progress. In truth, she had no desire to stay there. The dead wooden planks did little to comfort her, not when the surrounding area was so full of life. There were things she wanted to understand.
“I will come back…”
“No, you won’t.”
A rumble echoed in the distance. Was that thunder? She wondered to herself. When she was done picking apart the bedding she placed a new blanket across it. Ahhh there, much better. She had found along the road that straw could get uncomfortable. Laughing to herself at how human she can become.
“Where did you think you came from? The ground!?”
There was a time when she believed she came from the earth. Taking root and growing tall she believed herself to be mighty. Many things of importance came from the earth. Flowers for one. Every year new blooms would rise and tiny spirits would guide them. Those tiny spirits formed the best poetry. Their steady cadence and collection of knowledge always warranted praise. Izara sighs. During her musings, the thunder became louder and more frequent. Rain had started its descent upon the earth, washing the forest and giving its own music to the darkness.
