Forest Magic

The Dark Forest was aptly named. It was indeed dark; the trees twisted and gnarled as they stretch upward for the sun. No sunlight could reach the forest floor here, the canopy above was so dense. The grass was mottled and grew low to the ground here. Broken twigs littered the ground, the wood snapping with loud cracks underfoot. A dense layer of fog hugged the bases of the rough-barked trees. It swirled in silver tendrils as the gentlest of breezes fluttered through the forest. The heady, warm and earthy scent of decomposing leaf matter wafted upward with each step. Stories told of wild and vicious creatures living here, kept most people from delving deeper into the forest, and, if the tales were true, the forest itself had a dark magic that prevented intruders from ever leaving.



Trekking deeper into the woods, farther than anyone had gone before, the forest became alive. The trees grew less twisted and flowered in the most brilliant of hues. Shafts of golden sunlight filtered down from the canopy, catching the morning fog in its shimmering dance. Tiny flying insects floated in the beams, softly twirling around each other in lazy circles. Songbirds trilled and tweeted from the branches overhead, filling the forest with glorious song. The grass grew thick and lush, gently brushing against the trunks of the tall, strong trees. Blankets of soft, deep green moss covered exposed rocks and many of the trees themselves. Venturing just a little bit farther, the sweet smell of wildflowers wafted on the cool breeze. The soft swish of grass ahead was the only sound of a deer and her fawn passing through the peaceful forest.



Perhaps the stories of magic within the forest were true; they only had the kind of magic wrong.