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Elina stepped off the narrow dirt path and

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immediately felt the shift in the air.

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It was cooler here, smelling faintly of damp

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earth and centuries of resin.

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She raised her head, her neck craning back

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until her woolen cap slipped off into the

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ferns on the forest floor.

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Before her stood the ancient Sequoia Grove.

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She had seen photographs, of course, but nothing

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prepared her for the sheer scale of the

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Titans.

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Towering redwoods shot straight up into the slate

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-gray sky, their crowns lost in a high

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canopy of emerald needles.

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Beside them, a fallen giant rested like a

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bridge across a ravine, its exposed roots

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curling into the air like the wooden knuckles

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of an earth giant.

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Elina walked closer to the nearest trunk, pressing

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her palm against the detailed bark.

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It was surprisingly spongy, deeply furrowed and warm

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to the touch, feeling less like wood

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and more like the hide of a sleeping

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beast.

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As she stood in breathless silence, a sudden

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shift in the overhead mist broke the gloom.

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Sunlight filtering down pierced the emerald gloom in

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brilliant amber shafts.

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The dust motes dancing in the beams seemed

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to freeze in reverence.

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For a fleeting moment, the forest felt entirely

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outside of time, a living cathedral where

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centuries were merely breaths and human worries were

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nothing more than the whisper of wind

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through the needles high above.

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Elina closed her eyes, letting the cathedral's quiet

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embrace settle deep into her bones,

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before slowly turning to retrace her steps back

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to the modern world.