The green stag finished his missive. He had been wandering and writing for over a week now, focused intently. When he was with his friends, he had been thinking only of the poems. When he was alone, he was pondering the poems. And now, at last, he was ready.

He stood from his sunning spot at the river mouth and climbed the hill to the Twin Gods' statue, where he left it. He had, with some care, made an ink to apply onto a sheet of peeled-off birch bark. He left the note there, unsigned, to preserve some mystery to it.

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[center]To All Dear Forest-Dwellers:

In the interest of letting poetry be as it was meant -- a surprise look at the world, a delight to reach and understand, and a part of the community -- I have gone forth and spread some of my poems throughout the forest, with each poem tied to its location. I will release them gradually, so that I will be able to preserve them for my collection in case no one decides to hunt them out. Each wave of poetry will get, ideally, harder to find: you who can find the last poem will, without question, truly know the forest.