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This is All That's Left

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Standing within the walls of the Mother grove, passers by would see an unusual sight. Out of the way, near the edge of a cliff, a staff was thrust into the ground, and abandoned there. Its base had split into roots, and begun taking hold. New leaves had sprung up around the twisted shape of a shepherds crook. Draped over one of the new branches was the remnants of a black feathered cloak, and perching at the top was an ancient (by bird standards) crow. When approached by those who could understand him, he would shake his head at them, and solemnly caw: “This is all that’s left.”

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