The Deepwood Yield
By Eva Suluk
A crisp autumn afternoon in the Deepwood Land Lab. The air hung still, carrying the scent of damp earth and dying leaves. A thin, grey light filtered through the skeletal canopy of birch and pine, casting long, wavering shadows across the narrow, winding path. Thomas Caldwell, his breath misting faintly, adjusted the collar of his tweed jacket, his gaze fixed on a particular, unnerving anomaly. The land, usually so generous, seemed to hold a secret in its quiet dormancy.