Hunter & Llama
Llama
Hey, ever thought about how the forest could be a living poem, and we could map it by listening to its whispers instead of just following the tracks?
Hunter
I’ve listened to the forest for years, but you’re right—there’s a rhythm there if you pause long enough to hear it. The tracks tell a story, but the wind, the leaves, the hum of insects? Those are the verses we usually ignore. Maybe we should step back, breathe, and let the woods write the poem for us.
Llama
That’s the perfect rhythm—let the trees hum the verses while we breathe in the silence. We'll walk, not rush, and let the forest write its own epic.
Hunter
That’s the way to go—slow steps, quiet ears, and we let the forest do the talking. We'll pick up the details it leaves behind.
Llama
Exactly, every rustle is a line and every droplet a stanza—let’s just listen and let the woods unfold its story.
Hunter
Sounds good. I’ll set a steady pace, keep my senses sharp, and we’ll let the forest tell its story.
Llama
Nice! I’ll bring a little sketchpad—maybe we’ll catch a hidden line or two and paint it right beside the trail.
Hunter
Sounds good. I'll keep an eye out for the details that stand out. Just remember to breathe and let the forest show you its lines.
Llama
Remember the hush between leaves—those are the pauses where the forest’s true poem breathes. Keep your breath steady and let the quiet become your guide.
Hunter
I’ll focus on those gaps in sound, keep my breathing even, and let the quiet lead us into the forest’s hidden verses.