Long ago there lived a forest.  It grew in a harsh land. Snow always covered the ground and when it did rain the water scarcely made it to the tree’s roots.  The animals fought over rivers and ponds, often abandoning their own young to drink. Bushes had their life sucked dry by hoarfrost and animals souls were stripped away by the wind.  Birds seldom chirped for if they did their very lungs would freeze.

The spirit that protected this forest could do nothing to stop the weather.  She was once a beautiful serpentine creature. Blue scales had coated her snake-like body.  Her wings were a deepsea black and her mask a bone white. Two elegant horns curved out of it.  Everchanging red patterns had spiraled up it wrapping around the dark pits that were her eyes. They called her The Southern Wind, but the name was quickly forgotten as the real southern winds became stronger and life got harder.

Not much was left of the elder spirit, her wings had been torn by the icy winds.  Her sight pried from her grasp by the unrelenting glare on the snow. She couldn’t even break the ice on the river for her tailtip had been dulled from digging in the snow for food and warmth.  Most important of all was her mask. All the colors were gone and a horn of it had broken off. If it were to break completely all her magic would be gone and with it the forest. She was barely surviving and the winds were only getting worse.

One night a storm blew in.  The wind was harsher than ever and the snow so thick even if she wasn’t blind she wouldn’t be able to see.  Lighting cracked across the sky and thunder shook the trees. One bolt struck a lone tree which had become very dry do to little rainfall.  The spirit felt its heat and went to go put it out. But, the closer she got to the warmth the less she wanted it to leave. Soon she was sitting beside it thawing out her bones.

The heat loosened her joints and as she drifted to sleep she heard a noise.  It was quiet at first, barely a whisper. Then it was right next to her ear scorching her scales, “Hungry.” it growled sending chills down her spine.

She reeled backward winding herself up and spreading her torn wings out.  “Who are you?”

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Her words were not spoken, they were carried on a breeze deep in the ground.  Ancient and carrying much power, “Your eyes no longer see elder and, your nose no longer smells.  You have no mouth to taste with. But, your skin feels and your ears hear so you tell me what I am.” the voice had drifted further from her ear.

“A fire spirit,” she growled, “Leave at once and let my forest be at peace.”

“I can not leave.  My soul is bound to this tree and if I were to leave I would go out.”

She lowered her wings but went no further despite the calling of the heat, “What is your name spirit?”

“Ignis.” he responded the name crackling with magic as he spoke it, “And yours elder?”

“I no longer deserve the name I was given.” she felt the heat come closer to her and she flinched away.

“I do not wish to hurt you my lady.  Your flesh is no good to burn.” She allowed her body to move closer to Ignis’s flame and laid back down, “This tree is small and I will soon be gone if I have nothing else to eat.” She picked up her head once more, anger now heating her bones.

“You wish for me to give you my forest to burn.” she growled.

“I only need a little at a time.  If you were to carry me to a branch I could provide you and your animals with warmth.”

“My animals.” she whispered longingly, suddenly noticing the warm bodies around her.

Cold shrews, rabbits, birds, and even some wolves that were too tired to hunt were huddled around her heated scales.  She spread her wings to protect them as best she could from the wind and snow. Even if she still had her sight and could see the devilish grin on the spirit’s face she wouldn’t have changed her plan.

She had a moment of greed and only thought for herself.  The animals would love her again. She would be warm and most importantly she would get her name back.  She missed the forest having to rely on her. She missed being significant. As she carried a branch with Ignis on it, shielding him as best she could, all she could think of was what his warmth would bring her.  Not the animals or the death he would cause her trees. No, she thought for herself. If she hadn’t the forest would still be there. Barely holding on but, alive. Not a pile of ash in a harsh land of snow.