The gaps in the trees became broader and more frequent, the fields deeper and villages closer together. All at once, the forest opened into a city.
At first, I thought we'd somehow circled back to Brackencliff, but no cliffs or mountains overshadowed the orderly homes and ivy-covered towers. Soon, it became clear the city beneath us was far bigger, extending miles in every direction. Thick patches of trees and canopy shrouded vast swathes, the homes grown into the trunks themselves, like the library of Brackencliff, only crafted of real wood. The rest of the homes were half-timber with wooden shingles or tiles for roofs.
A vast river looped through the city, shining silver and red with the light of the setting sun. The ancient oxbows were miles across, with countless streams and tributaries weaving a chaotic sprawl between, connecting the city as thoroughly as the jumbled streets. Barges floated up and down, using the slow currents like canals.
