The trees were ancient, timeless as they disappeared into the sky, rough with age, yet their roughness had been worn down by the soft greenness of moss that had slowly made them home. Some trees were wreathed in ivy, ever frozen in its embrace, whilst others were still bare; young shoots that hadn’t enough time to have claimed companions.
Wet from the late spring rainfall, the ground was dark and damp, the curled brown leaves were half-embedded in it, trampled by the occasional dog walker, and the small prints of rodents and birds were crisply remembered by its form.
The woods are thick, humid, or dense but It isn't barren or desolate during the winter, or eerie and terrifying at nighttime but as alive, and astir with life. In the tree canopy, birds twittered, chirping and calling in dis
