What is a forest’s firm support, yet walks ‘round on its own accord?
What’s possessed of a titan’s might, stands before you, yet out of sight?
What soundly spanks with gnarled root a behind that is not good?
Beware these shrub-sized gaurdians of the forest.
‘‘There were five of them all together, these monstrous walking trees! Yep, trees that walked! By the look of those nasty things, they were probably trees that ate people as well. Tried to kill us with those giant rubber balls, they did, those hell-spawned overgrown bushes…
Cut that laughter out, damn you! We weren’t drinking salt-water when that happened! Those crazy things are real! And if you don’t believe me, sail there yourself, you lousy land lubber! Don’t tell me I didn’t say ‘‘I told you so!’‘, when those vicious monsters finally squish you with their roots’‘.
A town has a festival every year in the dead of winter. The festival of birds. The towns folk dress in feathery robes and beaked masks and dance and frolic in the belief that the changes of the seasons are controlled by the presence of birds. According to tradition, the festival tricks Spring into coming early because the birds have returned.