062: The Tea House Under the Moss

The trees tower around me. There is no path that I can see, but I feel it like a whisper in my chest. It guides me and draws me onward. I am not unfamiliar with this. There is much that I have seen, and much that I have done. My intuition has not yet failed me. Only reason has been tested.

The deeper I go, the older the trees become. Darker, shaggier, covered in moss and rough bark. Only spots of sunlight reach down through the branches, playing across the grass, rocks, and still leaves. I chase them like one would chase wisps in a bog.

They lead me to a clearing. In the middle grow amanitas, creating a circle of red and white, and at the edge is a wooden building with a moss-covered roof. There is golden light in the windows, and the door stands propped open with a wanderer's boot. A sign advertises black tea, green tea, and herbal teas, next to birch tea, wild-berry tea, and mushroom tea. For the truly adventurous, there is the option of shots of rum or whiskey.

This is where all the paths meet. This is where wanderers come to rest and tell their stories. This is where faery becomes real.

Written by: Katrine H. (@katrinehjulstad on Instagram)

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