The Tree Whisperer

The wind rose to a crescendo, whipping the trees' branches around in a flurry. The memory was stirring, and Styx could see a change was coming.

Back in the hollow underneath the fallen tree, Styx had been cradling the deep memory in his mind, careful not to let it slip back into the earth. But what was this song, and who was that figure?

The wind whispered through the tall trees; and whispered was the right word. Each wisp of wind held a deep whisper. And each tree made the wind sing its own song.