The deeper they walked into Willow Wood, the quieter it became. The air grew cooler, and the trees grew taller — thick, twisted things with bark like wrinkled faces. No more birdsong. No rustling. Just the sound of Tibby's tiny paws and Kip's soft steps on damp earth.
"I don't like it," Tibby whispered. "It feels like the forest is holding its breath."
Kip's ears flicked. "That's because it is."
Tibby stopped. "What?"
The fox pointed ahead with his nose. "There. See that hollow tree? That's the Old Hollow. If anyone knows what this map means… it's her."
> "Her who?" Tibby asked, suddenly unsure.
Kip didn't answer. He padded forward.
The hollow was a massive tree, older than any Tibby had ever seen. Its trunk was split wide open like a yawning mouth. Moss covered its bark like a thick green coat, and from within came a low humming sound — like wind and memory.
Tibby stepped closer.
> "Come in, little whiskers," came a voice — soft and slow like falling leaves.
Tibby froze.
> "You knew I was coming?" she squeaked.
From the darkness of the hollow, two golden eyes opened, glowing faintly. Then a shape unfolded — wings first, then feathers, then a round, wise face.
> An owl — enormous and elegant, with speckles of starlight on her wings.
> "I know many things," the owl said. "And not all of them are welcome."
She stepped into the light. "I am Elder Mora. Keeper of memory. Listener of wind. And you, Tibby, are the squirrel with the map."
Tibby nodded slowly. "You've seen it before?"
Elder Mora turned to the hollow wall behind her, where old carvings ran like veins across the bark. She touched one with her wing.
> "Long ago, the forest was full of light. But then something was lost. Something buried. The map you hold leads to the place where the forest's first secret sleeps."
Kip raised a brow. "A secret?"
The owl's eyes narrowed. "A heart. Hidden beneath the Great Willow. Locked away when Willow Wood began to forget itself."
Tibby looked down at her map. "Is that what the Red X is?"
The owl gave a slow nod.
> "But be warned, little one — many have searched. None have returned unchanged."
A wind blew through the hollow. The carvings shimmered.
> "If you truly go… you must find three things: The Voice, the Root, and the Flame."
> "What are those?" Tibby asked.
Elder Mora's feathers rustled. "You'll know when you're meant to. The map will reveal more when the forest believes in you."
Kip stepped back. "Well, that's wonderfully mysterious."
Tibby felt her chest tighten. "What if the forest never believes in me?"
Elder Mora looked at her kindly. "Then you must believe in it first."
---
As they left the hollow, Tibby held the map tighter than ever. And as moonlight filtered through the leaves, the golden ink began to shift again — new lines forming, pointing toward the east.
Kip leaned over her shoulder.
> "Looks like we've got a new path."
Tibby nodded, eyes wide.
> "To the Voice," she whispered.
And so the journey continued — deeper into the secrets of Willow Wood.