Spring

The stag moved, almost silently, through the woods. It was a cold, early spring morning, and tendrils of water vapour escaped from its nose and mouth with every breath. High above, beyond the skeletal trees, where a few buds had already burst to reveal bright green leaves, the sky was an empty grey, with a pink tinge to the east where the sun would soon rise.
Nothing moved in the forest and there was no sound except for the rhythmic tread of the stag and the rasp of his breath. The world around it was silent, still, waiting.
At last, the stag had reached his destination. Ahead of him, in the middle of a small clearing, stood a great oak tree, its trunk gnarled and twisted, standing tall and proud among the lesser trees, a king before his subjects.
At the foot of the oak tree was a small pool of water, its surface perfectly still, a mirror set into the ground. It was towards this pool that the stag had been travelling.
He bent his head and drank, causing ripples to dance away from him in ever increasing circles. With the tiny waves went his breath, moving like a mist across the ocean. The ripples reached the other side of the pool, bouncing against the roots of the great tree.
After a few moments, something began to stir in a hollow at the base of the oak. Slowly, with a great effort, a tiny figure emerged from beneath the tree.
The woman stood, bent almost double with the weight of great age. She was no more than a few inches tall and had long grey hair. Her face was worn and wrinkled, like the bark of the tree that she had slept beneath. The dress she wore was made of a brown material whish rustled like falling leaves as she moved.
“Hello, old friend.” She whispered to the stag, in a voice that was like the wind stirring dried and broken leaves on the pavement. The animal leant his head down, and the woman climbed up and sat on his forehead, leaning against his antlers. The stag turned and headed away through the woods, carrying the woman away from the tree that had been her resting place through the winter.
The sky was lighter now, threaded with bands of red and pink by the light of the approaching sun. The woman sat up a little straighter, and she appeared to be younger, with streaks of brown in her white hair. As they passed further through the woods she lent over to a nearby sapling. She her hand brushed through its branches, and suddenly the young tree was full of fresh green leaves. The effort exhausted her, and she lent back against the stag’s antlers.
The stag and his passenger emerged into another clearing, where the ground sloped down sharply. From here all of the surrounding countryside could be seen, stretched out like a giant map. After a few minutes, the sun broke through the trees in the distance, filling the clearing with warmth and light.
As the light fell on her, the woman began to change. She climbed down from her perch, and stood in sunlight, holding her arms open as though she could embrace the sun itself. She became younger, the years dropping from her like leaves from a dead tree. She also began to grow, becoming taller. Within a few moments, a young girl stood in the clearing with the stag, and all around them the forest was bursting into life.
The girl leant forward and, standing on her toes, planted a kiss on the stag’s forehead. And then she was gone, soaring up into the sky like a leaf caught in an updraft. She hung above the forest, and beneath her the trees began to fill the trees. And then she moved on.
She flew above fields and forests, and all around her life was returning to the land; spring had arrived. And for a second she was everywhere, right across the country, in every flower and every tree and every animal. And then she felt him.
He was there in her mind, a shard of ice in a sea of warmth. She flew down to him, landing in a park in the capital city. A short way away, sitting on a bench under a tree, there was an old man. The tree that he sat under was the only one that still had no leaves on its branches.
He stood when he saw her, and they met on the path. The man had a long white beard and hair that came down past his shoulders. Beneath his hat, his ice-blue eyes shone with the youth that he had possessed only moments before; the same light that had returned her strength had taken his away. He bowed to her, and they stood together in silence for a few moments.
“It is good to see you again, my lady.” He said, in a voice that was cold and shaky.
“Indeed, though I wish that we could spend more time together, and that one of us was also so…” she paused, lost for words.
“Close to death?” he asked, a small smile playing on his cracked lips. They stood together for a while longer.
“I miss you.” she said, as she did every year.
“And I you, but things are changing.” He swept his arms to take in the park “winter is getting longer, summer hotter, storms stronger.”
“Perhaps we can be back together again, like before. Before we split in two.” She said.
“Yes, perhaps.”
“Where will you go?” she asked.
“There are places in the world where winter is always present; I shall find a place there for a while.” He bowed deep and low to her, and took her hand in his. “I shall see you soon, my lady.” And then he was gone, and there were fresh green buds on the tree above her head.

The stag lay on its side in the clearing, basking in the fresh sunlight. The girl came and sat beside him, leaning against the tree and stroking his head. Together they sat watching the sun as it rose higher in the sky, burning away the early morning mist.
“It’s going to be a beautiful day.” She said.