The folk who live in the forest - the charcoal-burners, the woodcutters, the bandit-clans, the Dashing Outlaw's people - are ruled by their old superstitions. But they know the woods like no one else. When they speak, it's wise to listen.
When the boughs whisper, the woods are hungry. At times like this people go missing on its trails. Wisps burn in the gloom under the leaves. Sing-song voices echo between the boles. It's not spoken of openly, but every Seraultine knows that old, forgotten things dwell in the woods. From time to time they must be treated with, or driven back.
"Keep to the path," the wisdom says. "And don't listen to the cries in the woods, whoever they sound like."
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