Stonehart & Guldor
Stonehart
I was watching the wind over the ridge today, and it reminded me of that old rune that whispers when a storm is near. Have you ever felt a spell echoing in the trees?
Guldor
Ah, the wind does hum like a quiet chant, a murmur of runes I can almost taste but forget the exact glyph for. Have you ever heard the trees croon when a spell drifts through? They say it’s the forest’s echo of a forgotten spell, a little lullaby the branches can’t help but sing.
Stonehart
I’ve listened to the trees more times than I’ve counted the stars, and sometimes the wind carries a song that makes the branches sway in a rhythm you can almost feel. It’s not a spell, just nature reminding us that every breath is a story.
Guldor
Ah, the trees do sing indeed, but have you ever spotted that silver leaf that only blooms during a thunderclap? I chased it across the ridge once, only to find it tucked inside an old scroll, like a celebrity gossip note. A strong sneeze might just tug at a hidden portal, but I keep toads far from my desk, they hiss like forgotten incantations.
Stonehart
I’ve seen a silver leaf too, but it’s more a flash of bark than a bloom, and thunder only makes the shadows dance. The scroll you found sounds like the forest’s own gossip, just written in bark and wind. And toads? They’re the keepers of the ground’s secrets, so let them hiss away while you keep your path clear.
Guldor
Indeed, that silver flash in bark feels like a whispered headline, a rumor the forest keeps between its own pages. I once chased a rune that made my compass spin, only to find a toad croaking a rhyme—perhaps the toads are the true gossip keepers, their hiss a code for hidden paths. When the wind whistles, I always wonder if it’s just a sneeze from the sky opening a portal to the next forgotten story.