The leaves quiver and whisper, the shadows dance and leap like unmasked ballerinas.
|The creatures that aren't quite elephants thunder through the creaky brush, their footsteps muffled by the grace in their souls. Their tusks are scarred and pale, ragged slivers of the moon. Naomi watches as they pass her, inches away, uncanny eyes searching the pale light in front of them. Each leaf is lined in silver, each heart shimmering with armor. The branches sway with the weight of the shadows, the bursts of periwinkle light illuminating gossamer wings and gentle secrets.|