It was here. In all its thundering rage it screamed through these woods. It tore the oaks from their ancient strongholds and threw them about as if they were straw. The banks are littered with piles of rotted leaves and those things untethered. It was full of the storm and rushing to the ocean it forgot to take care. It scoured thalwegs and lifted minnows from their beds. It’s path is sore and broken. This wound won’t heal. The scar will be raked into the very ground. Sand piled on live things. Delicate creatures in the grasses look worn and scared. How will this wood mend? How dare the River rage over this shadowed haven.

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