Secrets from the Woods
Every Tree Tells A Story
CHAPTER 1 — Every Tree Tells a Story
Winter held the forest in a shimmering stillness, a silence so complete that even the wind seemed reluctant to disturb it. Snow blanketed the ground in soft, unbroken drifts, and the great trees stood like guardians carved from ancient frost. Among them towered the Old Pine, her trunk wide and weathered, her needles whispering when no other sound dared to rise.
Fern, a young fawn with a winter-pale coat, nestled beneath the Old Pine’s sweeping branches. Her ears twitched as the Old Pine’s voice drifted down like falling snow.
“Every tree tells a story,” the Old Pine said gently.
Fern lifted her head. “Stories? Out here? Everything looks asleep.”
A soft laugh rippled through Old Pine’s branches. “Looks can be deceiving, little one. Even in stillness, the forest remembers.”
From the ridge above them, Bramble the fox peered down, pretending he wasn’t eavesdropping. He sauntered casually into the clearing, tail high.
“I heard there were stories,” he said. “Thought I’d see if any mentioned foxes.”
The Old Pine chuckled. “Plenty do. Foxes have always been quick to leave their mark.”
Just then, a shadow passed over the snow as Ember the goose descended from the pale sky, landing with a soft thud near the frozen river. Moments later, Rill the otter surfaced through a hole in the ice, blinking water from his eyes.
“You’re early!” Rill chirped. “Migration must’ve been quick.”
Ember shook out her feathers. “The winds brought me home sooner than expected. The forest felt…different. I needed to be here.”
The Old Pine’s branches swayed. “Then gather close, all of you. Winter is when stories rise from the roots. And today, a new one begins.”
As snow drifted around them, Fern pressed against the Old Pine’s trunk. Bramble sat proudly, tail curled around his paws. Rill climbed onto the bank, dripping cold water, and Ember folded her wings around herself.
The Old Pine whispered:
“Every tree tells a story. And now, you shall grow into yours.”