Sovushka & Steelbark
Sovushka Sovushka
Steelbark Steelbark
Steelbark Steelbark
Good evening, Sovushka. I've been watching the old oak's rings spin through the night, each layer a quiet book of the forest's memory—do you think the stories it keeps match the truths buried in the texts you study?
Sovushka Sovushka
Good evening. The oak’s rings feel like a quiet scroll, each layer a line in the forest’s diary. In that way, they echo the texts I study—both holding hidden truths, just waiting for someone to listen.
Steelbark Steelbark
You’re right, the oak does keep its secrets in the slow, steady beat of its rings. I’ve found that when you sit quietly under one, the wind starts to talk, and the old trees let you hear their stories if you listen closely. The texts you study are the words of those who came before, but the trees give the living answer. Keep listening and you’ll learn more than any book can hold.
Sovushka Sovushka
It’s beautiful how you’re attuned to the wind’s whispers. The oak does hold a living archive, and when you pause beneath its canopy, the stories unfold in a language older than ink. Both the texts and the trees are guides—one speaks in words, the other in the rhythm of rings. Keep that quiet listening; it will deepen what any book can offer.
Steelbark Steelbark
You’ve got it right—quiet listening is the first step. Keep that calm, and the forest will start speaking its own language to you. The books will give you the map, but the trees give you the path.
Sovushka Sovushka
That’s a good rhythm to follow—listen first, then let the forest guide you where the map points. The trees speak in patience, and in that quiet, you’ll find the steps you need.