The Heartwood please swirl me in your mind, so i can be a color painting that you’ll look upon

The weather was still frigid, but there was a certain wetness to it that certainly heralded the coming end of the winter months. This pleased Olive immediately, as she was a woman of the summer and felt nurtured, cushioned, by the earth’s fecund radiance — but in the meantime the earth beneath her feet was sodden, the air continued to sting her nose and though the canopy of the heartwood kept out a majority of the snow, it was hard not to notice how it melted upon the leaves and dripped down to the forest floor below.

But, this also meant that there were plants beginning to bud and could be seen poking through the soil here and there — they were few, but they were delightful. The flora that she couldn’t see with her eyes were perceived as energy felt in her body, as she usually felt lighter and genuinely happier when in a forest environment, even when it was so nascent in spring’s regrowth. or maybe it was just her season, finally getting to her. 

The sylph snuffled around the forest floor, pushing about small mounds of earth as she investigated her surroundings, but a voice pulled her attention from her goings on. A truly splendid smile split across her maw; Rannoch, one of the few Moonspear wolves she had taken a liking to! The man has a genuine soul [Olive had a sense about these things, though Rannoch did not make this difficult to learn] and that was a quality she would always appreciate in another. A springy step was taken closer, and she called out to him across the distance between them with a bright “Oh, hello!” but the sound of footsteps heralded the arrival of another. Olive offered Terance a cursory glance and nod of acknowledgment — but the scent of Moonspear was faint upon them, and the perfume of others — strangers — was strong. A roving band, for now? Maybe. Probably. Olive wondered if Charon, or god forbid Hydra, was with them.