Ah, the Valley of Whispering Oaks, where the trees took up arms against invaders and turned a quiet slope into a sentry line. I’ve already begun drafting the tale—at dawn I’ll polish the final flourish, just in case the legend needs a touch of darkness to keep the villagers on their toes. Don't let anyone think it's just a harmless story; every leaf has a hidden story, and every story has a darker whisper waiting to be heard.

I'll make sure the whispers are razor‑sharp, the woods stand sentinel, and the villagers never forget the day the trees took up arms.