Lo! In a meadow of whimsy stands a henge not of stone, but of feathers—light, soft, and floating in a perfect circle. Each plume rests gently upon the other, a creation of either overly ambitious birds or very fluffy sorcerers. Some say it was a gift from the sky, others claim it’s the aftermath of an enormous pillow fight.
To enter this henge is to tread lightly, for the ground is naught but a quilt of fluttering feathers. The air hums with the faint sound of wings, and shouldst thou linger, thou may find thyself covered head to toe in down, resembling a confused goose.
Yet, the henge endures, a monument to softness and absurdity. Even the most serious adventurers may find themselves giggling, sneezing, or simply wondering, “Why so much fluff?”
Credit | ChatGTP
