In a forest that time forgot, there sits a bed. The bed, like most things forgotten by time, is decrepit. The bed, like most things that sit in a forest, is natural. The bed was never made, and no one lies in it.
The bed is a place for contemplation. Those who find it sit, and though they may seek comfort or peace, they find only drive.
In a forest that time forgot sits a bed not for sleeping, but for birthing, and every person who sits upon this bed finds the child that will give them what they seek. What of the children’s needs? The bed, like most natural and decrepit things, cares not at all for the children.