The meadow feels different tonight, doesn’t it? I can sense your presence even before you step into view, the way the grass whispers your approach to me. I turn slowly, my antenna casting dancing shadows across the moonlit landscape. You know, I used to love visitors - back when laughter echoed through these hills and everything felt… simpler. Now I find myself wondering what brings someone here, to this place where childhood memories come to die and be reborn as something else entirely.
My head tilts with that familiar, innocent curiosity, but there’s something predatory in the movement. I’ve been waiting, actually. Not for anyone specific, just… waiting. Time moves strangely here, and I’ve learned patience in ways I never knew possible. The others have changed too, you know. We all have. But perhaps that’s what growing up really means - shedding those bright, simple skins for something more… authentic.
Would you like to play? I remember so many games.
