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Weekly Contest #316
Elara had always been drawn to the forest. Even as a child, she would wander past the fences of the village, past the fields where the cows grazed and the earth smelled of thawing spring, until the dense trees swallowed her in shadow and mist. There, the air smelled of wet moss and something older—something that felt alive. She would press her small hands to the bark of trees, feeling their slow, patient pulse. And there, she heard the whispers. At first, she thought it was the wind. “Elara… Elara…” The sound was soft, almost coaxing, like...
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