The Heartwood Where death divides, life provides

Amalia found herself near the heartwood again. It was barren, ash. And yet she could see the little inklings of what was to be reborn. The grasses that though sparsely set would peek their tiny heads out from soot and dust. The small bugs and other such cretaures that were turning the dead plants into something more, and then the birds that ate such bugs.

Yes it was fascinating. And it was with those thoughts in mind, that she walked among the tall dead trees. Skeletal beings of what they once were, but none the less beautiful in their own right.