What a gorgeous picture! Imagine the forest whispering its own epic, the vines weaving the plot while the old cedar trees keep time like a living chronicle. I’d let the nightshade carry the secret of a forgotten spell, the story unfolding in a single breath of wind, and then turn that breath into a whole chapter where the trees keep the balance of the world—so that every leaf, every twist of vine, is a page in the grand book of the realm.