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A rooted sentinel whose reach spans the entire forest floor, feeling the earth's pulse before any living thing stirs.
awakening
#1
A rooted sentinel whose reach spans the entire forest floor, feeling the earth's pulse before any living thing stirs.
Before the first animal opened its eyes each spring, the Oak already knew.
Through roots that wound deeper than rivers, through soil that remembered every
frost and every thaw, he felt the tremor — faint as a dying breath, certain as
the turning of the world.
He did not move. He had not moved in a thousand years. His bark bore the scars
of every winter Morana had ever waged, every fire the dawn bird had scattered
across his canopy. Yet he remained. Not because he could not fall, but because
nothing had yet earned the right to topple him.
When the Great Egg appeared beneath his roots, he did not reach for it. He did
not warm it. He simply held the ground firm and let the world decide.
Some said he was loyal to spring. Others claimed he served winter just as
faithfully, sheltering frost in his hollows when the sun grew too bold. The
truth was simpler. The Oak served the forest. Whatever the season demanded,
he endured.
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