Undernaath the Pines

The Whispering Pines

The wind howled through the pines, bending the ancient trees into

crooked, unnatural shapes. Underneath the thick canopy, the forest

was alive with whispers-faint, like a thousand voices barely

brushing the edges of your consciousness. But they weren't

whispers of the wind. No, they were voices of something far older,

something far darker.