I am writing this with hands that barely feel like mine. Bark creeps along my arms, and leaves sprout from my shoulders. Soon, I will not be able to hold a pen.Alderbridge is gone. Maps will show a green blur where it once stood. Hikers will speak of a lush, overgrown forest, strangely warm and alive, and of a feeling that they are being watched.
Sometimes, they will glimpse figures among the trees: shapes that almost look human, standing still and smiling. They will feel an urge to stay, to listen, to remember.
The Green Man stands at the heart of it all, no longer alone. We are many now, rooted and enduring. We wait patiently, as forests do, for the world to need us again.
If you hear whispers in the leaves tonight, do not be afraid.
You were always part of this.
Source: Some or all of the content was generated using an AI language model
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