As the lead matron, Solicia rarely left her post within the tea house, ever attentive to customers needs and perpetually ready to soothe their aches. But even she needed time to breath and ponder upon life, and to escape the quiet chatter and gentle clatter of fine earthenware. Those rare times she left the teahouse she would be seen moving into the thick trees that bordered the perimeter of her property, and then not be seen for several hours. She’d follow a pilgrimage in silence, one she was all too familiar with; a path of foot stones through ever thick trees of the mountains kept clear specifically for her. Little could be seen beside the thick trunks and heavy greenery that blotted out the sun along the entirety of the path. The reward for such darkness was at the end of the of the journey, where the trees ended rather abruptly at the edge of a harsh and unyielding plateau of basalt that formed the top of one of the mountains’ shorter peeks. Protected by higher peaks, the plateau was a blank and tranquil locale that offered one a splendid view to the surrounding wilds and jagged rising mountains. But the real reason she came was the lone tree that had somehow found root and grown in the heart of the basalt plinth; a Birch tree grew, ancient in its existence with heavy drooping branches and leaves that nearly brushed the ground. The reason it existed here was a mystery to her as Birch trees typically grew on low ground and thrived where lands were often swept by wildfires. Yet here it stood, gnarled and heavy in its age. To her, the journey was fraught with symbolism. The darkness and crowding trunks of the trees lining the path mimicking her youth. Throngs of bodies, each trying to push each other out of the light so that they may grow tall and strong, only to be pushed aside by yet more bodies seeking the same. When one fell, none wept for long, as more rushed to fill and take their place. Yet if one persisted through life, trode the dark path cast by those who had the fortune of timing and age and searched, they would finally find their place. Those who reached the end of such a journey often emerged with scars plentiful and backs bent with woe, just as this birch had grown gnarled and drooping. Just like this lone Birch, Solicia emerged from the end of a long and oppressing journey to end where she was now as the owner and Matron of a profitable tea house. A respected individual, all after a long and dark journey.

It was here that she would spend hours reflecting on her life’s journey, in the company of a tree who had likely seen and suffered just as much in the name of success. And then at the end of the day when the sun threatened to dip behind the mountains, she would return once more to her tea house with a smile upon her lips once more and an ever-kind demeanour, refreshed by long hours of solitude and thought.