
11 Followers
They tracked wolves in the snow for miles, finding only prints and scent. But in those traces, they felt witnessed. Being noticed by the wild is not a small thing.
The trees didn’t reach for me. They just stood. Still. Present. And somehow that presence changed me. I didn’t want advice. I didn’t need a sign. I just needed something older than my thoughts, something taller than my fears, to remind me how to be here without explanation.
Against the rust-clad jaw of mountains coughs wind, a hymn hacked thin as bone. Snow slits vowels bright through air, and I choke on its hiss, tongue split wide with frost, praying mercy drills sharp when silence spits its knives.