The Forest of Bone

*From the annotated Gardeners Almanac of one Tibeera Petalbloom (full text is currently housed at The Eritreme Curio Collection in Oba)*

**On a page discussing soil preparation for tomatoes:**
*These are growing well, given the weather. Next time will try adding extra lime to keep out the bugs. Violet won't like that though. She does enjoy playing with the caterpillars*

**Below a diagram illustrating the proper pruning of fig trees:**
*Ought to cut the whole tree down, I would if my old bones would let me. Violet won't eat the fig syrup I've made for her. The women in town say it will make her better, chase the chill out of her. I'm not sure, would have been better if her fool of a father hadn't left her waiting in the snow while he gambled away all his coin in the tavern. Ought to cut him down. Damned old bones.*

**Page details are unclear, the paper is stained, and Petalbloom's annotations have blocked out the text**
*She's gone, GONE GONE GONE. Went in the night. I should have taken her to the medica, but I thought her fever was finally dropping. Poor little thing, she's still tucked up in her bed. Little white face. Little purple eyes. My little Violet.*

**A table of seasonal herb planting times**
*I chopped down the fig tree. No use to me now. My bones ache and I have splinters in my hands, so many they might as well be made of wood themselves. But that's where I wanted to bury her. By the tomatoes, so that she can have her caterpillars.*

**A passage on the eradication of invasive weeds**
*Her Father has come home again. Useless son of mine. Drunk as always. He cried out when I told him, dropped to his knees. I let him know that it was his fault, letting her get sick. He didn't like that. He screamed and told me that I was a liar. It was my fault he said. A witch he called me, said that I'd used the old magick and brought death into the house.*
*I don't remember what happened after that. I only remember the axe in my hands again. His blood seeping into the cracks in the floor. The splinters in my palms, again. I buried him near Violet. Not too close though, I needed my place in the garden too*

**Under a list of spring flower variations**
*Sing to Oliae! Violet has returned to me. She knows her namesake well, for where she has buried, a special sprig of violets has grown. They are bone white and hard, opening and closing of their own accord, shifting and reaching out to me. But they are violets, I know them by the shape. And they are Violet. I know by her touch.*
*Her father has sprung up too. A useless patch of Willowgrass, always slumped in a stupor, always trying to fly off on the wind, no good to anyone. The bone is fine on him, like birdwings. Maybe ill take a scythe and mow it down.*

**On a page discussing the merits of various manures**
*Two men have come from the town. Guardsmen. They were looking for my son. They said he was to be arrested. Something about a brawl in another town. I told them he wasn't home. They said they would come back tomorrow. One looked at me strangely. They know. I'm sure of it.*

**Following a watering schedule for cereal crops**
*I buried the guardsmen as far as I could from Violet, right at the bottom of the garden. Already they've grown into two tall trees of thick bone. They're looming over my house. I can see something moving in the rows of eye sockets near the top.*

**On a page detailing poisonous local flora**
*I went into town. Everyone was very kind, to the poor old woman bereaved of her son and her granddaughter, bringing cakes and breads to the whole village. I felt terrible about it. But I've spoken with Violet. She's lonely, only her useless father and those awful guardsmen for company. She needs friends, and there are so many sweet children in town*

**Alongside a list of methods for clearing old plants**
*Most of them made there way here before they fell, but I'm sure some of them died in town too. Witch, they called me! Witch! I'm no witch. Just a tired old woman. Wrinkled bag of flesh full of bones and regrets.*
*They've made such a pretty garden, the townsfolk. Most of the children turned to flowers, with petals made of teeth. Many more have turned to trees of all shapes and sizes, some have fruits made of knucklebones, and whole, grasping hands for leaves. Some have even made creatures. Mostly the tavern men who had too much fight left in them. They would never have been content with becoming still, proud trees.*

**On the last page, along with a hand drawn image of a giant Oak**
*There is still a place for me in the garden, a patch for my old bones. I'm going to lie down now. Ill come back young and strong, safe in my fine field of beautiful ivory flowers. Safe, curled up next to my dear Violet.*

The Bone Forest is an area of Titanic Crown Land, it's total size is unknown, although it is surely larger than the nearby town of Cradlehelm. Entry is strictly forbidden.