Whispers from the Winter Greenwood

Something moved in the Greenwood today.

Not loudly. Not enough to startle the finches or disturb the frost, but enough for the workshop windows to catch a flicker of colour that did not belong to winter.

Pale green.
Veined.
Alive with patterns the forest keeps hidden beneath its roots.

We followed the movement only as far as the treeline.
The shapes did not linger. They slipped between the firs like breath through cold air. There, then gone, leaving behind the faint scent of pine resin and stone.

No names yet.
No catalogue numbers.
Only a sense that the forest is holding its breath around them.

The Ledger records today simply as this:
“Unidentified spirits sighted in the northern verge. Observation ongoing.”

More will be written when they choose to be fully seen.

— Filed in The Maker’s Ledger, Second Day of January.