The Forest Waits

On the edge of the mining town, the forest waits.
The town doesn't care for the forest. They forget it exists. They forget it lives. They forget it feels. They don't care for the agony of the trees, the tears of the flowers or the sorrows of the grasses. They just mine further, harder, deeper.
Perhaps they should. For the forest whispers plans, murmurs plots, mutters schemes. And each tree hungers for blood.
One day, they will take back their kingdom.
But they have lived for millennia. They don't mind waiting. For revenge is meant to be savoured, after all.