Aldric Thornheart knelt in the sick grove at dawn, pressing his palm to a black-veined oak. For forty years he had healed this forest with druid craft, and for forty years he had waited to meet the stag spirit that showed itself only to the forest's truest guardian. The spirit never came. Now the grove was dying, and Aldric knew why it stayed hidden. No spirit would walk troubled land. The rot spread faster than he could count. Leaves curled brown. Sap ran gray and sour. He had tried river water and root balms for three days. Nothing held. The sickness crept toward the heart of the grove, where the oldest trees stood. A voice piped up behind him. "You're doing it wrong, you know." Aldric turned. A tiny chihuahua sat on a stump. Antlers rose from its head. A peacock's tail spread bright behind it. Aldric had wandered these woods his whole life and never seen such a creature. "You can speak," he said. "Fawn Plumewing. And yes." The little animal lifted its chin. "You're treating the leaves. The leaves aren't sick. The root is." Aldric studied the antlered dog. Something in its steady eyes told him it spoke truth. "Then tell me the cure." "There's a flower," Fawn said. "A bright yellow bloom with seeds like soft feathers. It grows where the water still runs clean. Boil the whole plant, root and all. Pour it at the base of the oldest tree. The healing runs down, not up." Aldric rose. "Show me." Fawn led him along a thin stream to a patch of sunlight. There the flower grew, gold and full, its seed-crown trembling. Aldric dug it up whole. The roots came free with a wet snap. He carried it back to his hut. Inside, the hearth still glowed. He filled his pot, dropped in the flower, root and stem, and let it boil until the water turned bright as the bloom itself. Fawn watched from the couch, tail folded neat. Aldric carried the steaming pot to the oldest tree. He poured the cure slow around its base. The gray sap darkened, then ran clear. The black veins in the bark faded. He held his breath and watched the healing spread outward, tree to tree, leaf to leaf, until the grove breathed green again. He sank to his knees, spent and grinning. "It worked." "Of course it did." Fawn trotted to his side. Then the small creature's ears dropped. "But I didn't tell you everything. Something made the root sick. Something that isn't finished." Aldric looked up. "What do you mean?" "The grove will heal," Fawn said. "For now. But the thing that poisoned it is still in these woods. And it wants the same forest you do." The grove stood green and quiet. Aldric felt no peace in it. Whatever had troubled his land was still out there, and now he had to find it.