Zephyr crouched high in the cradle of a towering tree, one knee balanced on a thick branch veined with moss, the other foot braced against the rough bark. His body was still, breath controlled, even as his muscles trembled slightly from the effort of holding position. The canopy stretched around him like a cathedral of emerald, light filtering through in dappled fragments. Thick vines dangled like serpents from branch to branch, and glowing fungi nestled in the bark cast a faint bioluminescent hue across the forest's underbelly. The air here was humid, soaked with the scent of wet wood and old roots.