I have always found forests to be difficult. It’s the density of vegetation, the complicated interplay of light as it passes through branch after branch before striking the leaf-strewn ground. That said, I don’t feel terribly bad about my latest attempt. In fact, I rather like how it turned out.
The Germans have a word, Urwald. In one sense, it simply means jungle. In another, it is a primeval forest. Something twisted and dark. It is the place of fairytales that end in blood and screams, where nightmares hide in shadow and the howling of wind through trees might be more than just that.
I didn’t just want to aspire to that aesthetic, though. My Urwald is stretched over a shattered landscape. The earth has pulled apart, leaving winding chasms between pillars of stone. This area marks the edge. A lonely road through a lonely wood, where travelers dare not wander far off the path.