After that point, the vapid stagnant sounds of the forest greens no longer consisted of just the chirping of birds and the quiet rustle of leaves in the wind. Every few weeks, months… dried twigs would snap, the bushes would sway… maybe sometimes, even laughter would echo.
And that's when the sole listless resident of the creepy giant forest knew that they returned. For better or for worse, they always do.
This stubborn old man it seems, had a robe for every occasion - the coldest of winters, the warmest of springs - without fail she'd watch him shamble along the creeks, over the fallen trees, just for that one fleeting chance to plead for her help once more.
She almost felt bad turning him away each and every time.
