You cry out your refusal, loud, almost in fear. It fills the clearing. A crash of leaves in the tree above suggests creatures taking flight. A rush of air sways low-hanging branches.
Then calm returns. But the voices go on. Rough, metallic.
You stand, wait, wonder what to do. Stare at the trunk intently. Moments pass and your gaze wanders. You look down, at winding roots and ferns, and notice... What is that?
A slender tube, rising low among fronds, just a stride away. It stands aged, weathered, with a heavy dent; a snail rests on the outside, on a silvered climb up from the leaf litter.
You step forward, lean to look in. A distant clang echoes up. And with it a fragrance, warm and good; overwhelming. Food - such wonderful food! And domesticity. Safety?
Is there a way down? You look round, see great roots arching over a shaded space, a burrow-like opening. A shallow slope drops away, down into a deep green darkness.
Investigate the hollow Blog One Blog Two
Examine the trunk Blog One Blog Two
Go down the hill Blog One Blog Two
Go up Blog One Blog Two_