Gradually, as the sun was climbing up the horizon, the smoke
and flame which controlled the forest for the past few days,
died away and vanished, leaving a corpse of the evergreen
woods which once covered this area.
A few flames still danced upon a fallen branch, devouring
the few last bits of living wood, sending a hissing sound
whenever the heat encountered a tiny bubble of water,
shielded by the now dead and dry wood.
A bark broke somewhere and the cracking sound which it
produced was echoed throughout the forest, resonating with
the few hollow trees, which, miraculously, were able to stay
standing whilst the fiery inferno ravaged the forest,
seeking to consume the very essence of the forest.
A raven flew over this ashen barren land. If it was hunting
for a burned corpse of a hare or touring for its nest, we
may never know. The raven, however, did not find either his
prey or his nest, and thus, it flew, exasperated, away,
emitting a sole cry of pure agony for the place the forest
once was and for what it was now, a haunted and dead pile of
ashes.