Whisper & Aspen
Aspen
I was just tracing the grooves on this oak, and it looked like a secret map carved by the wind.
Whisper
The wind scrawls its secrets on wood, and each groove is a memory waiting to be read.
Aspen
Exactly, each bark line is a line in a story only the forest can read.
Whisper
The forest's tales lie in the cracks, a quiet story whispered only to those who listen.
Aspen
I keep a little notebook in my pack, noting each crack's pattern—it's like a quiet symphony for the ears that can hear it.
Whisper
Your notebook is a quiet chorus, a place where the forest's hushed stories find a voice.
Aspen
It’s not a chorus, it’s a checklist—every crack gets a mark and a note. That way when the wind stops, the forest still has a record.