My tree, my lovely tree is no more. I am not free, no, quite the oppostite, I am trapped in a wooden horse belonging to a child. A simple child, so carefree, yet brimming with empathy. The complex fibers of my being feeling calm as it sits atop the horse made from the wood of my beautiful tree. The tree I was bound to for centuries. The tree I watched grow and prosper, blooming with the flowers I brought from my millenia of travel, scavenging the land for lost souls to overtake.

Yet the child cares for me, its belonging, a simple wooden horse. It continues to care for me like noone has before. As it grows I grow with it. One day I will hopefully be free, I wish to express my gratituse towards the child. As time passes, I begin to grow more useless, but I am happy. Happy because of all the good times weve had together. Though the child does not remember most of the hours we spent together, I do and I will try my best not to forget. I will not forget. Not the child I have grown so fond of, or its smooth skin as it strokes my wooden hair.

I regret never learning its name. I see it fading in my memory. There are no words expressing how grateful I am. The child helped me revive my ancient heart. I never though it was possible, yet it was done by a simple human child. I cannot reach it, I cannot express my gratitude, for the child is gone. It no longer remains in this world. There is still hope I can see it again. Once I get out of this complex prison of fibers I will find a way to reach the child. Afterall, I am an ancient demon, a former ruler of lands, now trapped in this log.

We shall meet again my child.