I walk across the ashen plains, accompanied by the skeletons of vibrance. The charr of night lingering still upon their limbs.


I stop, before me an ancient giant, whose leaves had once shaded his ever-grim children.


Atop the highest branch stands an eagle, silent and proud.


Our gazes meet as he cocks his head; watching me with judgement.


He then spreads his wings but does not fly.

The eagle stands there, encompassing the forest as if saying, “This is mine.”


I raise MY arms in protest, “No, this was yours, it’s mine now.”


The eagle flies away in search of somewhere I have not been.


He will never land again.





I walk across the ashen plains, accompanied by the skeletons of vibrance. The charr of night lingering still upon their limbs.


I stop, before me an ancient giant, whose leaves had once shaded his ever-grim children.


Atop the highest branch stands an eagle, silent and proud.


Our gazes meet as he cocks his head; watching me with judgement.


He then spreads his wings but does not fly.

The eagle stands there, encompassing the forest as if saying, “This is mine.”


I raise MY arms in protest, “No, this was yours, it’s mine now.”


The eagle flies away in search of somewhere I have not been.


He will never land again.