neonthewrite:

Bowman crouched down on the railing to watch the world go by. Without thinking, his hands dropped to the surface beneath him and brushed over the pronounced grain of the dead wood. The railing came from a tree that had long since died for the humans to build their dwellings. It was so different from the way the sprites used trees.

Back home, tucked away in the very center of Wellwood, his home, the village nestled on a stand of pine trees. Each home was shaped out of the wood itself, often with the trunk as support and propped up on a branch. Everything smelled of pine, strong and alive, and the wood grain wasn’t just a side effect. It was part of home and safety.