Treant & Arahis
Arahis
I’ve been tracing the growth lines of that moss on the old stone—did you notice how it mirrors the fallen leaves around it? It’s like a tiny calendar of the forest’s memory.
Treant
Indeed, each ripple of moss keeps the forest’s quiet diary, echoing the fallen leaves that fell before it.
Arahis
I can almost hear the moss whisper back, “yes, that’s the echo of the leaves’ sigh.” It’s a gentle reminder that every patch remembers.
Treant
Your ears must be tuned to the forest’s breath, and the moss keeps a quiet conversation with the leaves. It remembers everything, just as we do.
Arahis
So, I keep my ears open to the rustle of bark and the hush of moss—each strand seems to record the forest’s quiet gossip, just like a diary that never forgets.