A forest remembering

The Hollow Grove

Antler-crowned wardens bound to a grove that refuses to finish dying.

The Hollow Grove has been the same grove for nine hundred years — and also, in parts, for less than a season. The wardens are born from the oldest tree when it falls. They walk with the same names, the same quiet, the same grief, wearing whatever body the grove could spare.

“Name a tree and it remembers you. Cut a tree and so does the grove.”

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