Ancient Baobab

A strange place. Far to the east of the destroyed rocks, far away from where lions congregate, an old, wizened tree clambers out of the soil and sparse, spotty grass. Not so much up, as out, the tree radiates something mysterious as its thick branches jut out and claw their way further into the sky. The trunk is a light, tan-gray, rivulets in the bark run lengthwise like aged wrinkles in the skin. The very center of the baobab, where the trunk splits into countless branches, a creature could easily find stable footing on the wide base. Faded claw marks are etched into the trees surface, a climbing perch for many generations, and stranger still. darker patches of color here and there indicate a greater intelligence; a more nimble being with a purpose, once used this tree for its own devices. Whoever it is, however, is seasons gone, but whatever was left behind has not been washed away by the rains or burned by the hot sun of the dry.