The so-called sanctuary was located in a clearing within the forest. To call it a clearing was not quite accurate, though, as it was still undeniably forest, what with the presence of squat trees—standing only about a dozen meters tall with trunks as thick as a wrist—dotting an area less than a hundred square meters. These dwarf trees were clawing at the dregs of sunlight filtering through the gaps in the leaves of their taller kin, striving valiantly to grow. However, their growth had taken on a peculiar shape now.
Named whitevine trees, these plants possessed an uncommonly tenacious vitality and proliferated almost everywhere on the Yarran Continent, from the sweltering north to the frigid south—its presence ubiquitous. Its claim to fame was the soft yet sturdy wood, perfect for making fishing rods. Yet at this moment, it seemed repurposing them for making shelters wasn't a bad idea either.
