The trail to the Listening Tree felt different now. Maybe it was just the season — the leaves darker, the air carrying a hint of autumn — or maybe it was them. Eli and Kate walked in easy silence, the crunch of gravel underfoot giving way to the soft carpet of moss as they reached the clearing.
The great oak stood as it always had, its roots twisting and coiling into the earth like the fingers of something ancient and sure. Eli placed a hand on the rough bark, feeling the coolness seep into his palm.
“You ever think,” Kate said quietly, “that some stories aren’t meant to end? That they just… wait for the next person to come along?”
Eli looked up into the canopy. “I think some stories are like this tree. You don’t cut them down, you just… add your part to the rings.”
They stayed a while, letting the quiet settle around them. A jay called somewhere in the distance; the breeze shifted the branches overhead.
As they turned to leave, Kate paused. At the base of the tree, half-hidden in the leaves, something small caught the light. She knelt and picked it up.
It was a brass token, worn smooth by years of handling. In its center was an engraving — a tiny, perfect serpent’s eye.
Kate met Eli’s gaze. “Thought you said this was over.”
Eli took the token and slipped it into his pocket. “Maybe it is. Or maybe it’s just our turn to keep watch.”
They left the clearing without looking back, the Listening Tree standing silent behind them, holding its secrets for whoever came next.
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