Kusaka & RustNova
Spotted a line of trees that seem to line up like some forgotten path—maybe an old shrine buried in the woods. Ever come across a place where the trees themselves hold a story?
I’ve seen a few of those. Trees line up like old footprints, and if you sit still you can read the wind’s whispers. The story’s in the way the bark cracks and the scent of the earth shifts. It’s quiet, but the forest knows.
That’s the kind of vibe that makes a city ghost story feel real—just when you think the wind’s a rumor, it’s actually talking back. Keep your ears open, you’ll hear the trees gossip about the old ones that fell long before the concrete.
Sounds right. I’ll listen for their whispers.
Good luck catching their gossip—just don’t get lost chasing the wind.
I’ll stay on the trail and let the wind do its talking.
Just keep your head down, and you’ll hear the old paths breathing back at you.