Soon after i left the city i found myself in an area covered in golden grass covered mounds high and perfectly shaped contrasting heavily between the azure skies and the dark green forests bellow, atop one, deliberately placed, was a very old, very off trea, seeing as it didn't fit with the rest of the florae of the region.
I felt very compelled to go to it, very quickly the swirling coiling brances of the tree became clear, randing from darker tones to a bright orange brought along by the lychens growing on it, at it's roots, protected, there pierced the ground a large graite rock with a concave eye carved into it's front.
Whoever planted this tree, or placed this stone must be long gone, at this thought a wave of melancholy washed over both me and the wonderful landscape around me.
It was a grave.