". . . As they round a great trunk the moans fade. The silence is deafening. Even the dry leaves underfoot refuse to anounce the stranger's arrival.
One of the company points out to the king a carved face on the trees. Faces, almost frozen in grotesque screams. Like melted wax, they are etched from the bark's very flesh; yet, their hollowed eyes seem deathly alive with unblinking stares..."
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