The Sentinels If forests could talk, what would they say?

Playing with Ibis in the forest and searching for ghost leaves had given Wraen an idea that she wished to test. If the living beings had a ethereal presence after death, what if the same applied to plants? Maybe not all of them, but the big ones. Like trees? This prompted her return to The Sentinels, where among the Donnelaith wolves she had first opened her eyes in this world. She had been very young, when they had left, during the famine, and later on, when she had returned to this area, she thought she remembered seeing tall, tall trees. But then it could also be her mind creating new memories out of facts and stories she had been told. 

At the first glance the charred remains of this once grand place had not changed much over the years. The undergrowth had grown thicker, the grass was taller and more tree trunks had given up in the face of the elements. It was a sad place, when you dwelled only on, what it had been once. Yet on the second glance you noticed that the forest continued to thrive. Wolves had left this inhospitable place, but now various critters had found a safe haven here. She could hear them, she could see the paths - big and small - crisscrossing the vast area. She would not find the ghosts of the tall trees that had once stood, because the forest was not dead after all. It simply had changed. Which meant that her theory had been wrong.

She leaned down, focusing her ghostly gaze on a seedling sprouting from, where the roots of the old tree stood firm and the moss covered tree trunk offered a shelter from the winds. Which meant that one day she would change and begin to grow anew again.