The Whispering Forest

The Whispering Forest

In the heart of an ancient wood,
where moonlight drips like silver nectar,
a girl with hair like tangled sunlight
wandered beyond the known paths.

The trees stood tall, their bark etched
with runes of forgotten languages,
each one a sentinel,
a keeper of whispers.

She followed the sound of a song,
soft as the hush of a distant tide,
led by fireflies
that blinked like tiny stars.

A fox with eyes of amber flame
appeared at her side,
its tail a brushstroke of twilight.
“Be wary,” it said, “for this forest listens,
and its gifts come at a cost.”

But the girl was bold,
her curiosity a flame
no wind could quench.

At a glade where the air turned golden,
a tree older than time
bent its branches to her.
“Speak your wish,” it creaked,
its voice the rustle of a thousand leaves.

She wished for a heart unafraid,
to roam the unknown
and embrace its shadows.

The tree wept a single blossom,
petals of gleaming pearl,
and as she held it,
her chest glowed with quiet fire.

The fox bowed low,
its eyes flickering with pride.
“You have passed the forest’s test,” it said.
“Go forth, child of courage,
and light the dark corners of the world.”

When she stepped beyond the forest’s edge,
the stars seemed brighter,
the wind softer.
And in her heart,
the song of the forest sang on.