Alda

There was something about the way the trees moved, the branches creaking with an ancient knowledge of the world, leaves rustling with whispered tales that rode on the wind itself, roots dug deep into the forest's earth, giving all the animals a shelter from the weather with their sturdy trunks that spoke of the way the forest worked. Newcomers would walk in and somehow find peace, no matter circumstances of where they came from or what state the world was outside of the protective canopy of hunter green foliage. Not all that walked into those woods returned, but all of them found out something about themselves deep in the quietly watching trunks of the trees. What that was is only for the lost to find out, and what came of each lost soul in the forest was something only the trees still knew.