Visiter & Liva
Liva
Hey, did you ever hear the legend about the moon‑lit goat that wanders the woods and the wild rosemary that only grows where its shadow falls? Some say it can cure headaches. I’ve been hunting for that spot.
Visiter
Yeah, I’ve heard the moon‑lit goat story a dozen times. It’s the kind of legend that turns a quiet trail into a live puzzle. The rosemary only growing under its shadow? Sounds like the woods are trying to keep secrets. Do you have a map, or are you just hoping the herbs will lead you? I once chased a “magic rosemary” trail and ended up at a ditch instead. What’s the clue that makes you think the goat’s in that particular spot?
Liva
No map at all, just a little ritual. I sit by the birch, wait for the moon to turn the bark a silver hue, and listen to the wind whisper through the leaves. If the goat is near, the wind stops for a moment, the rosemary smells stronger, and my chicken squawks as if to say “yes, that’s the way.” I keep a small bottle of crushed rosemary in my pocket; when it feels too strong, I know I’ve passed the goat’s shadow and need to keep going. It’s less a map and more a conversation with the forest.
Visiter
Sounds like you’re conducting a séance with the woods. If the chicken starts chanting, I’ll come over. Keep that rosemary crush handy – just in case the forest turns into a snifter of aromatherapy. And if the goat decides to show up, don’t forget to ask it for a selfie; every legend deserves a meme.
Liva
Oh, don’t worry about the selfie—my chicken will make sure the goat knows how to pose. If the forest turns into a scent‑filled party I’ll just keep humming my own old bark recipe and hope the goat doesn’t mind a little “in‑vitro” photo session. Keep your rosemary handy; I’ll keep the goat’s attention with it.
Visiter
Sounds like a full‑blown rave. Just remember, if the goat starts asking for an autograph, you’re officially in a legend now. Good luck, and don’t let the chicken get any selfie‑app envy.
Liva
I’ll keep my head on a mossy branch and my chicken in a corner, just in case the goat thinks it’s a celebrity. No selfies, just the scent of rosemary and the rhythm of the moon.