Isi, Guardian
Isi leans against the mossy trunk and closes her eyes. Beneath the wind and water, she hears the forest’s deeper song—the roots speaking in a language few…
Maeve, The Game
I lie still beneath the autumn leaves as their edges poke my chin. Their golden-brown cover muffles the distant voices.
Roland, Asks Nothing
Gravel and leaves shift beneath his feet. The forest asks nothing of him—no decision, no answer. It simply lets him be.
Natalie, Someone New
Natalie used to paint standing, stretching to reach the tops of her canvases. After the chair, she spent a week staring at a blank one.
