I walked among the trees, walking slowly and brushing my fingers along the bark. Every tree seemed to give off an energy, a spark, when I touched it. I soon found myself in a clearing and sat down on the rock in the center.

"I know you're here." I said sadly, "If you were gone and remembered your trees would have names on them."

The voices whispered faintly in the winds, wisps of color coming off the trunks and floating around me. I wasn't scared though, they were friendly. They told me things, secrets. They said I was the first one to speak to them in the centuries they grew.

I escaped to that forest daily ever since, listening to the tales of voices I could barely make out. I stayed there until I grew old and grey, the people outside the forest calling me some urban legend.

I sat on that rock, day after day.

I could tell my end was near.

"What are your names?" I asked them, struggling to breath but not fighting the inevitable.

"Shh," she voices beckoned, "Do not worry. Sleep now. We are your ancestors."

And with that, being unanswered yet satisfied, I stood up and hobbled to a gap between the trees. Lying down with my last breath and letting the earth swallow my body I heard the voices clearer than before, feeling the small sapling form from my corpse.

"We are you ancestors, we welcome you home."

A forest of oaks, all trees now bearing the faintest marks of names. All but one.