Hushed Willows Scary, right? Wait until you hear the bad news.

There was no shape, no form, but there was sound, and it drifted through the endless sea of willows around him. The voice was light and almost carefree, like the voice of a child — a little girl.

You're leaving me — the voice drawled, oddly casual, but there was something off about the pitch. The willows shook as if in response to the words, distorting their sounds, fading them in with the cacophonous din of their braided mess of branches.

And then, the wind began to wail.