It was in a dream that he was awakened. It was in a dream she had spoken to him. And it was in a dream she had given him her gift.

They say spending a moment in Fairy could lose you hours in the real world. In many ways, Fairy was the real realm for him. But that was not where he was now. He was in the forest. He’d spent a half a night in Fairy, several days had passed in the forest. The forest that had been his home for so long now.

When he’d awakened from the dream and stepped out of Fairy into the mossy forest floor, he’d changed. He was immensely large now, sturdy strong legs with sharp, hard cloven hooves. A thick bulky neck held up massive antlers that spread out like the branches of a tree and bore sharp tines, their breadth as wide as he was long. A shaggy, dark brown fur, covered him, another layer of protection over the tough hide. Still, a few green vines and colorful flowers crowned the antlers. The dark fur still held bright highlights of orange that mimicked the butterfly’s vibrant wings. He was still Woden, but he was Hers. The Forest Spirit, a Fairy Queen had called her protector forth. And she had made him strong.

“Their evil cannot be allowed to soil the forest,” her voice echoed in his mind. “Crush their bones, blow away their curse, rid my forest of their plague.”

Death. Death was nothing new to the forest. But this perversion was not merely death. It was rot and corruption, death parading as life. “I will not fail you my Queen,” he muttered silently.

A blur of dark and orange, he burst through the woods, galloping hard, he made his way to the battle which was already raging. To the hill of the Twin Gods, those stone monoliths that looked over the forest and now witnessed the invasion of darkness into this forest of light. They attacked the forest’s deer, and the deer where fighting back. His friends where up there. Deer he had sworn his aid in battle too.

Galloping forward he neared them and could make out the features of the attacking creatures. Wolves. Huge undead wolves, the bare bones of their bodies animated and moving in no natural way. No flesh covered them, the bones twisting and moving in a perverse mimicry of life. Dead, hollowed eyes, glowing from within stared out of those grisly wolf skulls. They moved like killers, sharp crushing teeth snapping at the legs of bravely fighting deer. Woden bugled a challenge as he raced into battle.

The things swarmed at him. Quick and lithe, they dove over and under. He dodged, flinging out with strong kicks that crushed bones, sharp hooves battering wolf bodies. His giant antlers plunged forward and scooped snarling wolves over his head and flung them into trees. He attacked with a ferocity that matched that of the undead creatures. Crushing, piercing all that came at him. He bit at them like they bit at him, large sharp tusks now filled his mouth and he used these weapons like a predator, clamping down on his enemies and shaking hard until they did not move again.

They ripped at him, they tore at him. Blood poured down into his eyes, blurring his vision. His breath came in great heaves yet he fought on, battle rage masking all pain. He knew he was injured, but he did not stop. His back leg, it wasn’t working right. He was moving slower. A wolf clamped down on his neck and shook, Woden spun and crushed the wolf against a tree and it fell away. Warm blood ran down in rivulets through his thick fur. His strong legs trembled. He was weakening from blood loss. He fell to one knee.

No more attacks came. Looking up he saw the crushed bones of wolves about him. Some where still moving despite their injuries. The other deer which had fought bravely alongside him where crushing the skulls of fallen wolves. Woden heaved himself back up, shaking and shuddering with the effort, he mustered strength together enough to bring his sharp hooves down upon the skull of a writhing wolf creature before him. Out fell a crystal and the thing’s hollow glowing eye faded, its grotesque form finally ceasing to move. For good measure he stomped on its bones, grinding them to dust. He and the other fighting deer crushed more skulls. Other deer collected crystals, removing them away from the bones. Nothing would rise from these remains again.

Satisfied that they had defeated the undead creatures, Woden allowed himself to stop. His vision was blurring, voices fading and becoming incoherent. He stumbled away from the battle site unaware of his path. He let out a low moan and crashed to his knees, this time not rising again. His neck stretched out as he fell into the soft moss of the forest floor. How it cradled him and comforted him. Long shuddering breaths racked his body, his blood soaking into the green moss. Sleep. He wanted to sleep. Darkness over took him, a quiet and warm darkness that he happily fell into.

“Rest, my Prince. You have done well,” whispered her voice in his ear, “Rest now.”