Nostradormouse stepped forward and said, ‘Tell us who you are, friend! Why have you come to The Great Woods?’
The Hawk replied, ‘My name is Spring! I bring you new life! Look to the tree and see what I have wrought!’
Another gasp came from those nearest the four branches, and every creature turned to see what the commotion was. Small flower buds were growing on them, which quickly opened into thick bunches of purple ash flowers. The hawk flapped his great wings, creating a wind which whipped up the pollen from the flowers, scattering it over everything. After the wind had died down, the hawk gave a cry and flew off into the east. When those assembled looked back at the branches, they saw the purple flowers wither and fall off, revealing beneath them feather-like green leaves, hanging from long stalks.
‘Look!’ said an excited pine marten, who was pointing to the main trunk, ‘there’s something else moving inside!’
As the assembled throng gazed in fascination, a stag leapt from the fissure and landed gracefully on the ground in front of the tree. It let out a triumphant cry, and the four stags gathered at each branch cried in unison. This stag was larger and more majestic than the others, and they bowed their heads to it in awe and respect as it moved to the southern branch.
‘My name is Summer!’ it said, ‘And I bring you the heat of the sun and the ripening of the earth! Look to the tree and see what I have wrought!’
Again, all eyes fell on the branches as black leaf buds sprouted from the wood. They quickly and gracefully opened up into beautiful, feathery light green pairs of leaflets with toothed edges. As they grew larger, they deepened in colour and grew stronger with each passing moment, until each leaf was revealed in all its glory. All those present felt warmer. The sun’s rays, filtering through the branches of the trees in the great wood, became more intense.
The stag gave another cry and galloped off into the south. Every creature listened to the sound of its hooves fading into the distance and felt a great longing for its return.
All eyes immediately returned to the fissure in the trunk, waiting for whatever would emerge next. For a while, nothing happened. Then, the light emanating from the cleft began to change in hue, growing dimmer and darker. As if in answer to this change from within, the air around the gathered creatures began to grow colder and fresher.
Once again, silence descended upon the clearing, and with it came a feeling of unease. Many creatures became agitated. Nostradormouse stepped forward into the clearing, yawning quietly to himself.
‘Do not fear,’ he said, ‘the waters of the four streams have stopped flowing, but it won’t last for long.’
Even as he spoke these words, the water began to flow again. A sigh of relief was felt all round the clearing, then a chorus of excited voices cried, ‘Its flowing the other way! The streams have changed direction!’
Then, with a blur of movement, something flipped out of the fissure and somersaulted through the air, landing with a splash in the stream that flowed past the western-most branch of the ancient tree. A head bobbed to the surface, and all could see that it was a salmon.
‘My name is Autumn!’ said the salmon, ‘and I bring you the harvest, and the approaching darkness. With me come shorter days and cold winds. Look at the tree and see what I have wrought!’
The circle of creatures looked to the branches and watched the leaves turn from dark green to yellow, then drop silently to the ground. The air grew colder, and for the first time, those gathered could see their own breath.
The salmon leapt up into the air and came down with a splash, then swam away to the west. Nostradormouse felt drained of energy and began to move back towards the crowd, but he never reached them. Instead, he sat down suddenly, and crawled up into a ball, falling into a deep sleep. Many other creatures followed his example.
Another rumble emanated from deep within the tree; it was a throaty growl, and those who had not succumbed to sleep’s comforting embrace watched as a great bear leapt from the fissure and landed on all fours in front of the tree. He paced across the clearing until he reached the northern-most branch, then stood on his hind legs and let out a roar. Every creature took a step back, fear in their hearts. Some scampered behind larger creatures, some hid their faces. All were in awe of the mighty mammal.
‘My name is Winter!’ said the great bear, ‘And I bring death and sleep, but also the promise of days to come! Look upon the land in my time and see what I have wrought!’
As he finished speaking, the sun disappeared behind the trees, leaving the clearing in darkness. Then, soft white flakes of snow fell from the sky in flurries. The awe-struck creatures of The Great Woods had never seen such a thing before and it filled them with wonder. The great bear let out another roar, and then something truly amazing happened. He simply burst into a shower of stars which flew in all directions, making shadows dance amongst the crowd. Then, they flew up into the blackness and became one with the night.
The tree groaned and creaked once again, and a glow radiated from the fissure, rapidly growing in intensity. Then, there was a flash of brilliance and the sun appeared once again in the sky, melting the snow and thawing the frozen heart of the earth.
Nostradormouse stirred. His eyes flickered open and he gave a great yawn. As he stood and stretched, all the other sleeping creatures woke too. From above the clearing, a cry was heard and all heads gazed upwards to see a hawk circling in the cloudless sky.
Spring had returned to The Great Woods for the first time.
Epilogue
The tree returns to life; the tail ends with a point,
Rumours worm their way into The Great Woods,
Families are reunited; a lost couple find their way
And the prophet reveals a great bear in the stars.
Later, in the centre of The Great Woods, the animals had all left. Apart from the steady flow of water from the four streams, there was no sound or movement in the clearing where the great tree stood. The Nidhog was sleeping soundly at the roots of the tree trunk, and Ratatosk had taken shelter in the hollow where he had made his nest. Even the Golden-feathered bird was quiet; what they felt could not be put into words.
The fissure at the base of the trunk had closed up, but there was still a scar there, as a reminder to all who saw it that time was moving on. It would take a few moons before the creatures of The Great Woods realised just what this meant to them, and many moons more before the effects of the seasons were felt.
But for now, things were not too different. The air in the morning was colder than before, and the days were shorter, and there were leaves upon the trees, even if they were still small, and curled up into buds. But spring had definitely arrived, as the circling hawk announced at every new sunrise.
There were, however, dark clouds on the horizon. They swirled and threatened to spill over the edge of the world, but hadn’t yet summoned the courage to carry their inky blackness over the spring skies.
Under the earth, too, were signs that more change was on its way. In parts of The Great Wood, those animals that lived underground were often woken in the night by rumbles. Soft, gentle rumbles, and yet discomforting all the same. There were rumours, of course. There were always rumours. There was talk of a gigantic worm that eats everything in its path; a worm so huge that it would split The Great Woods into a thousand pieces.
But rumours are for fools, aren’t they? And anyway, there were those who put their faith in a more reliable source, and he hadn’t said a word.