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"Hello, old friend," Ashlynn said, gently brushing her fingers across the bark of the Ancient Oak. Standing this close, the shadow of the tree felt both deep and heavy, and the creak of the branches in the gentle autumn wind sounded like the movement of old bones shuffling in the night.

To stand beneath the Ancient Oak was to stand beneath the weight of time itself and for a moment, Ashlynn felt the weight of a number of years that were impossible to count settling down on her shoulders, like a faint preview of her future with Nyrielle before the weight fell away and the tree rustled in a gentle greeting.

"I’ve brought a friend," Ashlynn said, holding a hand out to Virve and gesturing for her to approach the mighty tree. "She’s helped to keep me and my coven safe, and she’s watched over my love for even longer than she’s watched over me."

Virve reached out to Ashlynn slowly, taking the younger woman’s hand in her large paw and allowing herself to be led toward the towering oak.

She had seen the Ancient Oak once before, but she had never come beneath the canopy of the venerable tree.

Seeing it from a distance was already impressive, but now that she stepped under the branches of the mighty oak, she found herself needing Ashlynn’s support and guiding hand just to approach the trunk.

"Her name is Virve," Ashlynn said as the older woman approached the trunk of the tree. "And I’d like your help to bring her into my coven as the next Oak Witch."

Virve wasn’t a young woman anymore and she’d long come to accept that, unless she stretched or warmed up her body, there was a growing stiffness in her motions and a weight to her movements that hadn’t been there twenty or even ten years ago.

Moving under the canopy of the Ancient Oak, however, brought all of the minor aches and pains of her body into sharp focus and the closer she came to the trunk of the tree, the more stooped her posture became as the strength of her muscles faded.

Only when her large paw touched Ashlynn’s small and delicate hand did the feeling of advancing years retreat, replaced by the warm, comforting feeling she had once felt as a young cub playing at her grandfather’s feet.

No longer was the tree ancient and imposing, rather, as someone who was a friend of the Mother of Trees, the tree welcomed her into its shade, filling her with the feeling of returning home after a long day away.

"Hello, Ancient One," Virve said softly as Ashlynn guided her paw to touch the bark of the tree.

Above their heads, branches shook and trembled as a wind felt only by the great tree swept through the branches.

The place where Virve’s hand touched the ancient bark grew warm to the touch, enveloping her claws in a soft golden-green glow that quickly spread along her arm before spreading across her chest.

"Don’t resist," Ashlynn cautioned as she stepped back from Virve and the trunk of the tree.

Unlike the Ancient Willow, there was no spirit accompanying the Ancient Oak who could form its thoughts or feelings into words, but Ashlynn no longer needed an interpreter to understand the desires of the venerable guardian tree.

At the moment, it was open, welcoming, and deeply curious about the woman who could become the next Oak Witch.

For Virve, the touch of the tree quickly grew even more familiar, taking on the slightly rough, strong feeling her grandfather’s hand had whenever he ruffled her fur or tossed her into the air to play in her earliest memories.

That sensation of familiar strength and playfulness that wasn’t always gentle shifted as the golden-green energy enveloped her completely, overwhelming her senses and carrying her mind into a bitter, cold world, reminiscent of the High Pass and the nation of Frost Walkers.

Endless snow covered the familiar hills and valleys of the Vale of Mists, and the river Luath had transformed into a frozen stream, shining like a brilliant, silver ribbon in the harsh light of day.

At her feat, however, a single oak sapling pushed up through the snow, basking in the bright light as though it were a warm, summer day.

"This," Virve muttered, her eyes going wide in shock. "This is the Age of Ice. The end of the age of ice," she realized as she noticed that the tops of hills bore not only a few fledgling sprouts of their own, but patches of hearty grass that had begun to grow where the frost no longer held sway.

As soon as she spoke, the vision shifted to a valley where snow only clung to the hillsides in patches of deep shadow.

The sapling at her feet now stretched it’s branches more than a dozen feet into the air above her head and acorns littered the ground around her, waiting for small groups of squirrels or passing birds to carry them away to other places.

"You really are the father and grandfather of all the Ancient Oaks in the Vale of Mists," Virve said, smiling as she watched a flock of birds settling around the young tree before springing back into the air with their treasures clutched tightly in their beaks.

Her view of the valley shifted again, this time revealing dozens of settlements as the Horned Clan and the Clan of the Great Claw arrived in the Vale of Mists.

By now, red cedar had begun to fill the valley and many of the Oak trees that filled the valley were like the Ancient Oak she stood beside, weathered and aging guardians who watched over the Vale and all the living creatures within it.

"You were already old when my people arrived," Virve said, watching time slip by as years passed in seconds and the Vale of Mists grew mightier and more prosperous under generation after generation of Eldritch rule.

It was one thing to hear stories of the days when the Vale of Mists had been ruled by a High Lord and existed as one of the most prosperous nations east of the mountains.

The people who remembered those days grew fewer every year and most of those within the Vale who could remember the ’golden age’ spoke of it with a kind of pained wistfulness that Virve had always suspected exaggerated the glory of yester-year.

Now, however, seeing the ancient roadway packed with wagons and traders making their way into the High Pass, or the bustling city that surrounded the ancient fortress, she felt that she’d done the older generation a great disservice by dismissing their boasts of the days before humans invaded the Vale.

The Vale of Mists of those days had been just as brilliant and prosperous as High Fen City, if not more so, and the Ancient Oak had witnessed every moment of its rise, from a tiny collection of villages into a mighty nation.

The vision turned dark, however, when the first human army appeared on the horizon.

Their banners snapped in the wind bearing the hated burning sun emblem of the human Church along with emblems representing the Lothians, the Dunns, the Hanrahans and dozens more noble houses come to slaughter in the name of expanding their empire.

Suddenly, Virve’s perspective shifted and she found herself elsewhere in the valley, standing at the base of a different Ancient Oak.

This one felt younger even though it was taller and it’s trunk wasn’t nearly as wide, nor it’s roots as thick and overgrown as the ones belonging to the tree she’d started with.

Humans swarmed around the tree with axes, hot irons and giant saws, hacking and carving away at the base of the mighty tree.

"Nooo!" Virve roared. Her hands moved without thinking, slipping into the worn and familiar darksteel fighting gauntlets that hung from her waist as she charged toward the human butchers, intent on stopping them from harming the majestic tree.

When she arrived beside the first ax wielding human, however, her claws passed through their body like smoke and she tumbled helplessly to the ground when her fearsome attack encountered no resistance.

"Aaaargggg!" Virve roared, shouting in helpless fury as she could only watch the memory unfold before her.

The humans worked with brutal efficiency, chopping roots, sawing through the trunk and then processing the towering Ancient Oak into a series of slabs that they could load onto heavy wagons waiting to cart the remains of the sacred tree away, as though they were carts filled with ore or precious treasures mined from a mountain’s depths.

"I understand," Virve said, hot tears burning in her eyes as she watched the humans carve up the remains of the once mighty tree. "You’ve lost your close kin to the human butchers too."

Above her, she heard the sound of a furious wind whipping through the branches of the Ancient Oak tree as darkness overwhelmed her sight until she found herself standing in a different place entirely...