The Weeping Boughs

A drowned sap-warren beneath a fallen redwood in the Greatwood's west, where the Sap-Drinkers' heresy has run furthest — chambers of half-rooted folk, lucid and slowing.

The old redwood fell across a hollow that goes deep, and the amber sap has been seeping down through the galleries for decades. The Sap-Drinkers came after it, and some of them never left — not dead, not rooted like Sorrel, but caught between: translucent and still, answering questions in their own good time. The deepest chamber smells of resin and standing water and something older than both.