Far beyond the seething seas, lies a place of verdant wonder: The Willowing Woods. Here, you'll encounter all sorts of creatures, each with their own stories to tell. Venture into the Ever-Verdant Grove to hear a story of long-sought friendship. Tre...
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Where life bountifully flourishes and the grasses ever-green spread across like wildfire, the Ever-Verdant Grove nestles peacefully amidst the Woods. The chartreuse grasslands, twisting trees, seeping streams, and the miraculous creatures that roam throughout are filled to the brim with life. It'd be an exceptional place to begin when one decides to set foot in the Woods to marvel upon its mystical splendor.
In that Grove dwelled a Fwistail; nimble, quadruped critters with softly sharp ears and an ever-narrow snout. They bore swift paws and pointed claws, though they're usually docile beasts. Common Fwistails had ashen-gray fur marked with streaks of ethereal lavender. This particular one had fur as white as snow, and was streaked with pure-lit cerulean, for it was the last of its kind. The Fwistails of yore had been befallen a grueling fate, though that is but a tale for the days yet to come.
The Fwistail had witnessed the Grove's lush-grown grandeur, as it felt the gentle caress of the sun on its face. The Grove's arms were wide-open towards the pale-furred fellow, and it had all the time it could ever need to venture about. Fwistails are imbued with the gift of traversal, so it went out and scampered hastily about the emerald meadows, while marveling at the Grove's beauty. Atop the twisted mossy trees, it rapidly ran and lept across, as it then came splashing down towards the streams and creeks: soaked and sappy, but ever-so vigorous.
Elated as it was, not once did the Fwistail feel traversing the Grove as a chore. Though as dusk and dawn had cycled about, its blissful blaze slowly began to weaken and wither. No longer had it felt the same euphoria it once did the first time it set out within the verdant fields, as everything had grown utterly mundane. It's almost as if a piece of the puzzle had been moribundly taken away, but what could make it whole again?
Perhaps all it needed was something, or someone, to share that esprit exhilaration with. Perhaps say, a pal; a companion; a friend. The Fwistail had been wandering throughout the Grove without anyone beside it, and so it immediately ambled away in search of a potential companion. Though solitude was its only friend amidst these teeming terrains, that would not impede its pursuit of an invaluable companion: no matter how arduous.
Far and wide did the Fwistail trek its way all around the lush and humble Grove, in the hopes of finding amiable company. The atmosphere had grown solemnly still when suddenly a mellow-piercing cry broke through the silence. 'Chick-a-chick! Chick-a-chick!'. Bewildered, the Fwistail turned heads and lept & lunged, in search of the placid cry. 'Chick-a-chick!', yet again. It came from the trees ever-higher, so it dashed atop the sinuous branches, as the sound grew louder and louder. 'Chick-a-chick! Chick-a-chick!', once more.
To the Fwistail's surprise, it stumbled upon a humble Squittlechip; small furry critters that bear bright brownish-orange fur with ethereal marks of jaded teal. Its tail can hang itself from the highest branches, but its secluded nature prefers not to. Ever-so eagerly jumping towards the Squittlechip, it greeted it with an overzealous gaze. Though as it had, the Squittlechip slowly backed away instead, as it lept from above out of frightful perplexity. The Fwistail followed as it slowly descended back, and desperately tried to catch up to its possible 'friend'. The Squittlechip was running for its life, as it'd been chased by an unaccustomed 'predator'.
