And when she left the forest she lost her language for a very long time. Only when the ghosts of her memory became so heavy they were as heavy as forest shadow, tree dreaming, did she remember her native tongue.
She tried to get back to the goblin forest, but all her paths circled back on themselves, and all the old ways were gone. But when the sorrow of it got so tangled that she felt she could not move in any direction at all, she understood at last that her home was never the forest, it was the dreams, the poetry, the sad faraway feeling that would always draw her on, finding home in the longing, home in the remembering. She was a child of the forest. She was one of its ghosts.