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   Chapter 25 Crown Of The Black Fall Boughs

The Silverskin By Rian Torr Characters: 2380

Updated: 2018-03-07 15:18


Sprinkled in a light gown of snow, French's Forest seemed unusually still and serene that early morning. It was calm.

The leafless crown of the black fall boughs made a thick, thorny canopy to keep the ether's angels out―skewering the sleek sky with so many crooked limbs.

Normally there were restless spirits about—flitting at the stray fringes—but not so this dawn. There was just a tense, cold calm—like the silence between lovers letting go, as night and day traded places.

French's Forest had seen more than anything else alive—yet it never uttered a word of what it knew. Rather, the wood just whistled nonsensically between its trees—or babbled meaninglessly on its brooks—or mischievously evoke

tnessed.

But when the ghouls were afoot—that was different—for the enchanted place then became truly alive. Even the common man could see the faery's flight.

Every walk of magic and mystery could be found there―past the blue leaves of dusk—if you had two ears tuned well enough into the finer frequencies of life.

He found himself now missing French's Forest. He would rather it go on being every good and evil thing he had ever remembered—than a soulless husk.

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