Ilona knelt before the grove of ancient trees, their massive boughs twisted upon each other. On the flat stone at her knees, she placed the handful of seeds. "Master of this Forest," she said, "accept this offering and give me your aid."

The trees were silent. Not even the wind dared rustle the leaves as the young woman waited for her answer. She spoke again. "My people have lived on the edge of your land many years. We have given as much as we can to you, we have guarded your forest from any who would harm it, and now we suffer. All I wish is your help."

The moss on the rock suddenly grew until the seeds were consumed by the soft carpet. A piece of the trees leaned forward, vaguely taking the form of a man, his skin rough bark and moss. The Komeinen spoke, his voice hollow and distant. "I remember all your kind has done for me and my land. What ails your kind, that you come to me when the trees still dance in their green?"

"A great illness has come to my people. Without a cure, we will all die. Already so many have passed beyond." Ilona bowed her head, her tears spilling against her will.

The Komeinen creaked as he held out his hand. A flower sprouted from his palm, its red petals as delicate and many as the threads in a spiders web. "Do not fear. This flower is one of the last my kind has saved from the time before; only a taste of its petals, and your ailing people will dance again."

Ilona reached for the flower, plucking it from the Komeinen's hand. "Thank you, great Forest-Keeper," she whispered. The Komeinen only nodded and leaned back into the trees, his human-like features melting away until nothing was left but the trees. Ilona wasted no time to return to her village with the forest's gift.