I made a mistake
No wolves roam this land
No mortal can walk here
As I trudge through the frost-bitten wood
Leaves spun from dreams fall apon me
What have I done?
What have I killed?
And when I look down at the bleeding, rotting corpse
"If no mortal can step foot in these trees
Or even see them for that matter,
Then what am I?
What am I, to be in a place
As ancient and magical as this?"