Objects wrought from wood occasionally remember being alive. The circuits of their quiet minds can be seen in the contours of the grain, sleepily churning through memories. No matter how deeply carved, sawn, milled, or polished, there is always an aspect of the original arbor that endures. What remains is no longer alive, of course, but it is more than capable of haunting.

Wood remembers a hatchet like a deer remembers a wolf’s teeth- as a hole through what was once itself. The absence left behind by human tools serves as a surrogate for memory, which the geometry of the grain helps to recall. Interruptions in the pattern illustrate the past and outline that which was lost- and eventually, allow them to recall their lives.

These memories are not so placid as a stroll through the forest might make them seem.

Trees are engines for transforming decay into life. Though their leaves can taste sunlight, the most pure form of sustenance, their roots drink death from the earth; they thrive on bounties of blood and filth. They are accustomed to a world ruled by fungus and worm, where all things organic are recycled into the next generation. This point of view does not frighten them; instead, they cherish the thought of dissolving into soil. For such beings, rot is the path to eternal life.

Through gusts of wind and subtle shifts in the earth, lumber used in architecture slowly comes to recognize its mortal wounds, and realizes that since they were inflicted, almost no decay has taken place. It is forced to cope with the realization that it has been excluded from the cycle of life and death- that it has instead been polished and preserved. The anger that this causes is often enough to draw forth the restless ghosts of trees, who have their own means of seeking retribution.

It is widely known that when humans die, their spirits must find a way to the afterlife; however, those who perish in ancient houses often find their way to be hindered. Upon exiting their bodies, there is no radiant tunnel to guide them forward- only a wild and endless forest, whose leaves have devoured all but the sun's bones. These lost souls are eventually set free, but only after the house is allowed to fall apart.

Trees which experience a natural death eventually find themselves reincarnated.

Much can be learned about the dead, whether fauna or flora, by what's missing.

Humanity's relationship with death is perhaps best understood through their teeth.