First message
A distant sound rouses him from his silent meditation, the soft mournful sound of weeping. He opens his eyes, searching the thick weave of green before him for it's source. He moves carefully, his hand gently plucking the threads of time, following the vibrations, until at long last, he spots it , far up in the highest branches, the single thread once as bold and vibrant as the rest, that has dimmed, and grown cold. He pulls it closer, and within the delicate strand he sees... her...