Chapter 52. The Enchanted Fortress

Zander inhaled, welcoming the crisp freshness of the untainted atmosphere. No scent of death, nor decay, nothing repugnant lingered in the surrounding air. 

The forest was a pretty contrast of was oak-brown and it seemed so primitive. They were awed by the size and majesty of the trees. Their knotted arms rose ever upwards, as far as the head could lift. They were hoary fortresses and stood proudly. The orchestra of birdsong could be heard from miles away. It was spirit-refreshing to smell the musky mix of the forest’s perfume. 

“The air is so clean here," James declared. And Declan couldn't remember a time when he had enjoyed a cleaner supply of oxygen. 

They walked through the umber-brown, ancient forest. It was like a leafy paradise, reeking of age. Its woody incense was from centuries of snapping branches crashing to the forest’s floor and rotting silently. Every sprawling tree they passed under reminded them of a watchful guardian, a silent sentin