Silence cast its shadow beneath the forest of mold and bone as the old woman walked in a lost thought—she was curious about the time when she could remember more than the images before her now, though as she tried to recall the past she found her mind was empty.
The dogs were in flight above the old woman, sucking on the floating spore sacks of the Primordial Glade with their toothless mouths. She watched as the older winged hounds dug their way into the loose earth for their final rest, she watched the dead ones sprout seedlings, she watched the fetuses gestating in their cocoons off of the exoskeleton trees.
The trees seemed to breathe as the mold snaked its way along their branches, releasing spores into the air.
Rhythm of the forest was fit to the old woman like a cold skin coat; its patterns left her eyes tired and mind barren.
