It doesn't take much for the forest itself to take hold, calling critters deeper into its enchanting fold. The deer and the wolf, rodents and birds, all feel the draw instinctively, but for us, it might take a little more to nudge our feet down that shaded trail.
Once home, the weight of the cuffs sit comfortably on your limbs as you buckle them in place, the soothing green reminds you of the dense trees outside of town and as soon as the buckle comes to rest on the last cuff, you can hear it. Faintly at first. A whisper. A plea. An urging to abandon the shackles of your own responsibility.
Before you know it, you find yourself at the edge of those woods. Your shoes kicked absently away, the damp, pleasing earth, cushioning your careful gait as your steps carry you into the the deep green. The forest has you, pulling gently at your cuffs, deeper into the sylvan community, welcoming you with a warm embrace.
If the cuffs were cursed, you would no longer care. They're a part of you now, guiding your paws, your claws, your talons, or your wings. They urge you to shed the beast that is humanity, they hold you to the woods where fur, feather, and scale, call home. Where you now fly free, shackled only by the Forest that binds its own.
