|Image Source: http://andary.deviantart.com/art/Forest-Dweller-488202695|
The druid passed over streams and through meadows, blazing a wandering trail through the wild as it sought the heartstone of nature. In its wake small flowers bloomed, and trees and animals sickened by disease or blight became well again. Soon a pack of wolves followed in its wake, providing honor guard for the protector of nature. A mighty buck, with great antlers rising from its head joined the path ahead of the figure, preceding it and clearing the way of last summer's growth.
As the afternoon grew long and the sun began to dip toward the horizon the procession arrived at last at the holy site. A clearing deep in the wildest parts of the forest, it had the eldritch aura of an ancient place untouched by man. At its center rose a great monolith of natural stone, striped through with veins of crystals. Here the ley lines gathered and crossed, meeting and mixing and continuing on at the position of the stone.
The animals broke from the procession, staying in the forest proper as the druid entered the clearing. Small slashes of green rose from its footsteps as it approached the sacred stone and raised its hands and its staff to the sky. The veins of crystal began to glow and subtle and cunning runes soon stood in stack relief against the dark stone. The druid sang the song of the seasons, of the winter ending, and the rebirth of spring. As the song reached its climax the runes and crystalline veins began to change from cold blue to green, starting from the bottom of the stone the warm green glow rose like liquid poured into a glass.
The song suddenly stopped. The green glow retreated, overcome by the greater force of winter's cold blue energy. The druid fell to one knee, gripping its staff with one white-knuckled hand, and looking down to the hand that found something jutting from its heart. The ice blue arrow began to melt, but rather than drip to the ground it seemed to flow into the druid, cold poison replacing warm blood. The druid cried out and collapses, its body freezing, turning to ice,
The Lord of Winter smiled with triumph. The land was his, there would be no spring.