Tree HouseBeersWhite Fern
White Fern
As we continue our journey deeper into the brush, the ordinary recedes, becoming a distant memory. At our flashlight edge, Kiwi birds lob the little clay pots of their bodies across the trail, scurrying out of sight of these foreign visitors. Strange calls dot the encroaching darkness, and prehistoric eyes flit between the tangle of trees.
- First posted
- Jan 21, 2025
- Latest post
- Sep 24, 2025
- Posts
- 3