The Forest Hill
The afternoon is young and bright. You are walking along a familiar path, and you find yourself in a familiar forest. Birdsong and rustling leaves follow your steps, and the cobblestones under your feet are faintly warm, dotted with sunlight shining through the branches over your head.
At the forest's throat, the scent of damp moss and sprouting mushrooms beckons you deeper. But should you turn east, the sun is waiting to greet you, in the fields with the wild heather and safer paths. You pause. You don't remember seeing these places before...
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