In the heart of Sherwood Forest is a tree. That a tree can be found at the heart of a forest is not remarkable and yet, everything about it was. Unlike the the ancient trees that surrounded it, the Major Oak was squat and broad, it's low branches spread so far that in modern times an array of props and scaffolding stopped the thousand-year relic from collapsing under it's own weight. A cavernous rift wove into the twisted trunk as if many trees had merged together leaving a void large enough for a grown man to stand in; according to local legend, the folk hero Robin Hood and his entire band of outlaws had hidden within to conceal them from Nottingham's pursuit.

A smile tugged at Jensen's features. The story seemed preposterous when you considered it; but then, myths and folklore so often did. Of course, in modern times culture's memory merged stories of Robin Hood with tales of Peter Pan; hiding in trees became living in trees, arboreal networks of platforms and bridges that spanned vast areas of forest, and hollow trunks large enough to contain entire homes. Whatever truth had once existed, it was long lost from the memories of the world.

Eyes sweeping around his dusk-lit surroundings to be sure that he was not being watched, Jensen casually vaulted the fence and stepped over to the tree with an air of almost reverence. His fingertips brushed across the bark, senses ignited with faint memories from too long ago to be resolved in clarity. The feel of the bark, the smell of the lichen and the fallen leaves underfoot reminded him of family; of brothers; of the times they'd spent together in the shadow of these branches. The recollection tasted bittersweet: that closeness with his brothers had long since faded, growing up arriving hand in hand with growing apart.

He circled, his footsteps bringing him to the wooden cave. His hand lingered on the bough beside it as he stared into the tree's shaded core; a single word tumbled from his lips, as much memory as it was conscious choice.

"Dhíghlasáil."

The tree quivered in response to his voice. Branches swayed; bark quaked beneath his fingers; the vibrations shivered all the way to the Oak's roots, rumbling the ground beneath his boots. The shadows within the tree deepened, darkened, as if the man-sized rift had suddenly transformed into a cavernous void. Jensen drew a breath and, with eyes closed, flung himself into the depths.