Verdant Vale

East of the Northern Elderwood, where the trees thin and the sky opens wider, lies the Verdant Vale—a younger forest where the wild meets the well-worn trail. Stretching toward the western edge of civilization, the Vale serves as a natural threshold between the old woods and the cultivated lands beyond.   Unlike its older cousins to the west, the Verdant Vale is more open, more forgiving. Sunlight filters easily through high canopies of ash, maple, and young oak. The forest floor is dotted with clearings, spring-fed glades, and patches of herb-rich undergrowth. Game is plentiful, and travelers rarely need a guide to find their way. Even those unfamiliar with the forest often find that it seems to gently guide rather than hinder.   For hunters, the Vale is a favored ground—its soft silence broken only by the call of pheasants or the snap of a deer’s retreating step. For herbalists and alchemists, it is a trove of rarer flora that thrive in the moist, loamy soil fed by gentle hillstreams.   Several trails wind through the forest—some carved by long-standing hunter lodges, others once used by traders and rangers. Travelers passing through often leave small offerings at moss-covered stone cairns along the way: a feather, a sprig of mint, a smoothed river pebble. It is not required—but it is customary, a sign of respect for a place that gives much and asks little.   Though not as steeped in legend or fear as the Elderwood, the Verdant Vale holds a quiet reputation of its own: a place where people find things they didn’t know they were looking for. Some speak of dreams that grow clearer beneath its branches. Others report feeling strangely refreshed after a single night’s camp beneath its boughs.   It is a forest of purpose and passage, of small wonders and simple abundance. And though not ancient, it is no less vital—its roots running deep into both the land and the lives of those who walk its well-worn paths.