The wall was old as the land, they said, and the tree had been a sapling in the days of the Magic Wars, when witches had roamed free.
When a child, Brenna rested beneath the great branches, sagging under eternity’s weight, and imagined the things the stones had seen.
When she was a young woman, woodsmen came to fell it with gleaming axes, and she drove them off with a bow of yew.
When she died, they laid her to rest amongst ancient roots, beside the wall, and stone and wood whispered to her all the secrets they hid.
Word Count: 99
This is for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and Sandra Cook for providing the prompt photo!