Havi shook his head, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. Yet one thing refused to leave him, the Percha trees.
His eyes roved over the towering sentinels that stood in solemn vigil around the swamp, their trunks thick and gnarled, their roots sinking deep into the earth like grasping fingers.
The leaves, dark as polished jade, gleamed beneath the pale light of the moon, whispering secrets that had long been consigned to silence.
"Grandfather Har," Havi finally spoke, his voice quiet yet insistent. "These Percha trees… were they your doing as well?"
The old man regarded him for a long, measured moment before inclining his head.
"Aye," he murmured. "It was us."
A hush settled between them. Though Havi had already suspected as much, hearing it confirmed sent an unbidden shiver along his spine.
"But why Percha, Grandfather?" he pressed. "Why choose this tree above all others? It is not a common choice, nor an easy one to cultivate. What was the reason?"
Grandfather Har inhaled slowly, his gaze distant, lost somewhere in the annals of time.
"Because, my boy," he said at last, "Percha is unlike any other tree."
There was something in his tone, something measured, almost reverent, that stilled Havi's breath in his chest.
"It is a tree of endurance," the old man continued, his voice steady.
"Its resin is precious, yes, sought after for many things, from insulation to medicine. But that is not why we planted them."
Havi leaned in slightly, the weight of the night pressing around them.
"Then why?"
Grandfather Har met his gaze, his eyes sharp despite the years that had carved lines upon his face.
"Because the Percha flourishes where others falter. It does not demand rich soil, nor the indulgence of gentle hands."
"It survives, through drought, through storm, through hardship. Its roots grip deep, defying time itself. It does not yield."
He exhaled, his breath a wisp of mist in the cool night air, "Just as we did. Just as we fought to make this place what it is."
Havi felt the weight of those words settle in his chest. His grandfather and Grandfather Har had not merely planted trees.
They had planted a testament to their struggle, a living monument to resilience.
"But there is another reason," Grandfather Har murmured, his voice dropping to a near whisper, as though wary of unseen ears.
"We did not plant them only for their resin. Nor for their wood. We planted them… because they conceal something."
Havi's heart gave a slow, deliberate thud, "Conceal something?"
A wry, knowing smile tugged at the corner of the old man's lips, "Aye," he said, his voice laced with the weight of memory.
"Beneath these roots stronger than iron, lies something we left behind. Something meant to be found only by one who truly understands this land."
The wind stirred, rustling through the trees, and for the first time, Havi felt the swamp not as mere earth and water, but as something breathing, watching.
His gaze lifted once more to the Percha trees, looming in their silent majesty, and a thought crept into his mind, a whisper at the edge of consciousness.
Perhaps this place was not merely something created.
Perhaps it was a message. A legacy. A secret waiting to be unearthed.
A heavy silence lingered between them, thick as the night mist curling at their feet.
The Percha trees stood unmoving, their shadows stretching long beneath the moon's watchful eye, as though guarding whatever lay beneath their roots.
Havi felt the weight of Grandfather Har's words pressing upon him, their meaning vast and unspoken.
Something had been left behind. Something meant to be discovered. But not tonight.
The old man exhaled, his breath a soft cloud in the chill air, "That is enough for now, lad," he said, his voice steady yet edged with quiet insistence.
"The night has grown long, and you should not linger in this place after dark."
Havi hesitated, glancing once more at the trees, at the silent marsh stretching beyond them.
A hundred questions burned within him, but Grandfather Har's tone left little room for argument.
"You best be off," the old man added, shifting his weight with a weary sigh. "This land is not kind to those who stray too far when the moon is high."
Something in the way he said it sent a shiver trailing down Havi's spine.
Reluctantly, he nodded, "Alright," he murmured, though his mind remained restless, tethered to the whisper of mystery that lay entangled within the roots of the Percha grove.
As he turned to leave, Grandfather Har spoke once more, his voice softer now, yet no less certain.
"Some things, Havi, are meant to be unearthed only when the time is right."
Havi cast one last glance over his shoulder. The trees stood still, their dark leaves murmuring in the wind, as though echoing the old man's words.
Then, without another word, he stepped away from the swamp, his thoughts thick with the shadows of a secret waiting to be revealed.
Havi lingered for a moment, his gaze flickering between the Percha trees and the old man beside him.
The night air had grown colder, carrying with it the distant hoot of an owl and the rustling of unseen creatures in the undergrowth.
A strange unease settled in his chest, though he could not quite place its cause.
"Grandfather," he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "Why don't you stay at my house tonight?"
Grandfather Har turned to him, the faintest glint of amusement in his weary eyes.
"Worried about an old man, are you?"
Havi shook his head, though they both knew it was only half a lie, "It's late," he said simply. "And… I'd rather not leave you alone out here."
For a moment, Grandfather Har said nothing.
The moonlight carved deep shadows into his lined face, highlighting the wisdom and weariness carried in its creases. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Very well," he said at last, his voice low, thoughtful. "Perhaps it is time I rested somewhere different, if only for a night."
Havi felt something ease in his chest, though he could not explain why.
He watched as Grandfather Har straightened, brushing soil from his palms before giving one last glance towards the Percha grove.
"Come then, lad," Grandfather Har murmured, turning towards the narrow path that led out of the swamp. "Let's go home."
Together, they walked away from the trees, their footsteps muffled by the damp earth.
Behind them, the Percha forest remained as it was silent, unmoving, and filled with secrets waiting to be uncovered.