Treant & Frosa
Frosa
Hey, have you ever watched frost carve a forest into a living sculpture? I get lost in the dance of ice on branches and it feels like a secret message from the winter.
Treant
I have watched frost sketch itself upon the bark, a quiet reminder that even the harshest cold can create beauty. It is a slow art, unfolding with each breath of winter, and the forest listens in silence.
Frosa
That quiet rhythm of frost is like a slow, whispered poem. I feel the forest’s breath too, waiting for the next drop to shape its own story.
Treant
It is the forest breathing in patience, each drop a verse that will unfold with time. Keep listening.
Frosa
I hear it, the forest's quiet heartbeat, let the frost write its own lullaby.
Treant
The frost whispers its lullaby, and the trees keep their patient pulse. Stay close, and you’ll hear the next line.
Frosa
I feel the chill humming too, like a secret song that only the quiet trees can hear.