The Tree-Shepherd moves through the trees, his great branch like limbs creaking as his brown skin, as coarse and thick as the bark of a gnarled old oak, catches on leaves. While his pace seems a measured stroll, this is the fastest he has walked in many a year, for he is a slow creature, a creature who considers each step before he takes it and often pauses to admire the glories of nature, to check on every leaf and twig. Today, though, he is drawn forward by an irresistible call and will tolerate no dallying and indecision. Today he must hurry.
The woods untangle, growing less wild and thick. Here gentle paths crisscross green grass and flowers grow among well-kept fruit trees. He has left his realm, the wildest of woodlands, to come into her home, a land of tended gardens and gentle plants, a land he may visit but where he rarely lingers. It is the right of the Treewives to keep their own gardens.
Ahead, a grove of willows droops around a still pond, their cascading boughs like a maiden’s hair. They part like a curtain as the Shepherd passes. Beyond them she waits, her limbs lithe and supple as the willows by the water, blossoms in her hair. She is obviously of the same kind as her mate, but at a glance also undeniably distinct, a being of garden and farm, who keeps each thing in its own place, unlike the feral chaos of his forests.
She smiles at his approach and beckons him forward. An old stump of a long-felled tree rests at the edge of her clearing, out of place among the flower beds and rows of sprouting herbs. The top of this is hollow and filled to the brim with dried leaves of red, yellow, and brown. These leaves rustle in a passing breeze, and the Tree-Shepherd holds his breath.
Birds and beasts, bees and bugs, gather around them. Squirrels quiver in the branches above and a hawk glides to rest upon the Shepherd’s shoulder, keen eyes alert. This event happens perhaps once in a lifetime, and all of nature has gathered to celebrate.
With a soothing hum, the Treewife brushes away the leaves, revealing green leaves, curled into a bud. As they watch, this bud unfurls, leaves opening to the warm spring sun. Twig like limbs and wide-bright eyes appear, their gaze taking in the world around it. The tree-child raises its arms and cries out with glee upon seeing his parents.
The proud father gives a booming laugh and the mother claps her hands.
The Sapling has arrived.
The Sapling, Treewives, and Bearded Tree candles make up the Tree Family Bundle. They are available (as a bundle and individually) starting February 11th, exclusively through the Mythologie Candle Guild.