The Heartwood I whistle a happy tune

Her tail wagged happily. I think I have some, Ivev replied, stepping forward to scrape some bark off also. It curled, then loosened from the tree and fell to the ground at her paws. It left an earthy, unique scent that was associated with willow.

Well, the story goes like this. The willow has always been regarded as a tree symbolizing wisdom- but for her, it wasn't always so. For a long time, the willow grew on harsh mountain faces, where it was very window and her leaves were often stripped. One day, however, a raven flew up to land on willow's branches. Raven promised to give willow a new home by the river if she could give him something in return. He wanted willow's bark so he could heal himself. Foolishly, willow said yes, and her bark became easily pliable under a bird's beak. However, when willow began to grow next to the river, she found she couldn't protect her bark from raven's greedy claws, who took lots of her bark and traded it to his friends. That's why her branches hang down- so she can protect her trunk.

Ivev glanced upwards, where the thin branches intertwined with neighboring trees. Spring was coming, and soon they would sprout with green shoots. I've actually not seen many willows in my time- I grew up around pine, more than anything else.