The Coastal Range

The hills rolled out into the misty morning distance, shadowed by patches of trees clinging to their southern slopes. These forests – the sinister element in what would otherwise be a perfectly simple and harmless landscape – were congregations of wizards. Each tree was gnarled and bearded with long hanging mosses. In the close, cavernous spaces between the trees, a silent emptiness dared not to disturb the musings of the wizards. Perhaps they were philosophers. Beyond, on the open morning hillsides, one’s soul could spread as wide as horizons. But amid the forest, one could do nothing but shuffle deeper.