Jade Fern Grove the broken, beating heart

He gave a short “mm” of agreement.

Even when the leaves are gone, the trunks remain. The roots create homes. And what hunts the residents of those homes, can be picked off themselves.

Survival was not a pretty thing. He found himself eating foxes last winter.

It is a good place. Byleth moved the moss he’d been holding with his feet, rolling it into a rough ball.

I think, at least.