Raven no longer walked through the forest the way he once did.
Before, he wandered without purpose, watching the water, listening to the wind, and observing the long shadows of the trees. But since he began noticing the symbols carved into the trunks, his path had changed.
He no longer walked quickly.
Instead, he moved more slowly.
His eyes constantly shifted between the tree trunks.
Every tree had become a possibility.
Every line in the bark might be another mark.
On a gray morning covered in mist, Raven entered a part of the forest he had rarely visited before. The trees there were older, their trunks wider, and their branches tangled together above as if they were trying to block the light from reaching the ground.
The air was colder.
And the silence was deeper.
He walked quietly when he noticed something on a slightly leaning tree.
He stopped immediately.
Then he approached slowly.
A mark.
This time it was slightly clearer than the previous ones.
Two lines.
But they were not crossing.
They were almost parallel, with a slight curve at the end.
Raven extended his hand and touched the bark.
The wood felt rough beneath his fingers.
Yet he felt the same sensation he had felt before.
These were not random scratches.
He stepped back and looked around.
Then he slowly turned toward the direction the leaning tree seemed to face.
He was not fully aware of what he was thinking.
But a small thought appeared in his mind.
What if the marks were pointing toward a direction?
He looked again at the two lines.
They leaned slightly toward one side.
Raven turned in that direction.
He saw nothing.
Only more trees and mist.
Still, he decided to walk.
He did not know exactly why.
But he began moving in the same direction the lines seemed to lean toward.
Step after step.
Several minutes passed.
Then he noticed something else.
Another tree.
He approached it.
And indeed…
Another mark.
This one looked slightly different.
A short curved line.
But when he looked at the direction of the curve…
He realized something.
It also leaned toward the same direction.
Raven stopped.
He looked behind him.
Then forward again.
The stone inside his pocket shifted in his hand.
Now the situation no longer seemed like separate marks.
Perhaps…
Just perhaps…
These marks formed a path.
But a path to what?
And why did no one else seem to notice it?
He continued walking.
The mist became thicker.
And the forest grew quieter.
He could barely hear birds in this part anymore.
Only the soft sound of his footsteps over dry leaves.
After a long distance, he suddenly stopped.
In front of him stood an enormous tree.
Larger than any tree he had seen in this part of the forest.
Its trunk was unusually wide.
He slowly stepped closer.
His eyes searched the bark.
It did not take long.
There was a mark.
But this time…
It was not one line.
Nor two.
But several short lines.
Arranged in a strange pattern.
Raven bent slightly to examine it more clearly.
He turned the stone in his hand and took it out of his pocket.
He looked at the two lines carved into the stone.
Then at the mark on the tree.
For a brief moment…
He felt that understanding was very close.
As if his mind was standing on the edge of a large idea.
But the idea did not fully form.
He remained standing there for a long time.
Finally, he sat near the base of the tree.
The ground felt slightly cold.
And the mist slowly drifted between the trees.
He picked up a small stick and began drawing the symbols in the dirt again.
Everything he had seen.
The first line.
The two parallel lines.
The curved line.
The new mark.
He stared at the drawing.
For several minutes.
Then something small happened.
If these marks were placed in this order…
They did not resemble a single symbol.
Instead, they looked like a path.
A moving line.
Leading somewhere.
Raven slowly lifted his head.
He looked toward the deeper part of the forest.
Darkness had begun to slip between the trees as evening approached.
But the thought remained in his mind.
These marks…
Perhaps they were not forming a symbol.
Perhaps they were forming a path.
But to where?