If you walk softly through the hedgerows and coppice woods of gloucestershires Robinswood Hill, where the trees lean in close and the earth is thick with tangled roots, jewel-bright berries, and mushrooms, you may just be lucky—or patient—enough to catch a glimpse of something as old as the woods themselves—a Moss Creature.

Woven from damp bark, feathered lichen, and wildflowers, these ancient beings have always been here, shifting with the seasons, unseen by hurried footsteps.

There’s Hogsuff Hedgehog, grumpy but lovable, forever snuffling through fallen leaves, his mossy pelt dappled with sunlight. And Podsmead, small but wise, who listens to the murmurs of the soil and knows the stories of every tree and babbling brook—guardians of the forgotten ways, the old ways.

To know them, you must slow down. Follow the trail of curled ferns and scattered acorns. Watch the rain soak into the earth and feel the hush of dusk settling between the trees. The Moss Creatures of Robinswood Hill are waiting. They always have been.