The Whispering Pines The wind howled through the pines, bending the ancient trees into crooked, unnatural shapes. Underneath the thick canopy, the forest was alive with whispers-faint, like a thousand voices barely brushing the edges of your consciousness. But they weren't whispers of the wind. No, they were voices of something far older, something far darker.
The Whispering Pines The wind howled through the pines, bending the ancient trees into crooked, unnatural shapes. Underneath the thick canopy, the forest was alive with whispers-faint, like a thousand voices barely brushing the edges of your consciousness. But they weren't whispers of the wind. No, they were voices of something far older, something far darker.