
Through the knot-hole you see it. Thirty yards out — the night pool. The doe is already drinking.
The tree is old enough that it doesn't notice us. The mushrooms are old enough that they do, and they don't mind. Through the knot-hole, the pool. Through the pool, the night. Through the night, the creatures who actually live here.
You will not write what you did tonight. You will pick a creature. You will borrow its senses for the dark hours. You will write what it saw, what it smelled, what made it freeze, what it killed or didn't.
When the chapter is done you carve it into a strip of bark. You rub the carved letters with pollen from the bowl. You knot the strip into the bundle hanging from the root.
Then you slip back out. The next stranger will be along.
Each pool holds one creature's attention. Step into a pool and your spirit goes out as that creature for the chapter. Look through its eyes. Write what it does at the water's edge. The next stranger picks a different pool.
Hover a pool to hear what the relay is leaning into. Click to take that animal’s page.
"The pollen bowl. The keeper has rubbed it into every word in this hollow."
RELIC No. IX · POLLEN OF UNKNOWN BLOOM · GROUND BY HANDAs you write the prose on the right, the same words appear knife-carved into the bark strip on the left, glowing pollen-amber. When the chapter is done, you'll knot the strip into the bundle.
"Eight strips when it's full. Then the keeper unties it and the bundle is read aloud to no one in particular."
The hollow stays where it is. So does Saoirse. So does the bundle, growing strip by strip, until eight strangers' creatures have all spoken at the night pool.
Borrow a creature · begin a chapter