Heron was leading his circle through the woods. The fight with the lich Malost had left them weakened, both in energy and in power. Yet they knew, if there was to be any hope for the forest, healing had to begin right away.
Heron led them to a patch of earth and forest that had been cursed and withered, the grass grey and the trees bare, and stood in the middle of it. Around him, the circle turned their backs to him, forming a loose circle. As one, they raised their hands and began to chant. Their words were the words of nature itself, and they echoed on the air. They spoke of green, and growth, and death, and dust.
As they chanted, Heron wove a complex ritual spell, borrowing upon all of their strength. After a few moments, Heron activated the spell, and the greyed grass and the withered trees crumbled to dust, falling to the earth.
The cursed earth itself became suffused with a faint golden light, and grew rich and fertile, banishing the curse by the will of the circle. By the time the spell was complete and the circle lowered their arms, the portion of the forest that had once been cursed and withered was now fertile, if bare. That was alright, though, for they all knew that what had been destroyed would grow back with time.
Some members of the circle fell to their hands and knees, their strength depleted. Heron saw this and declared, "All right, that's enough. We can pick this up again after we've had the chance to rest. Agreed?"
Murmurs of assent rang through the clearing. Not everyone responded, but no one contradicted. Almost everyone simply fell to the newly restored earth, falling asleep in the soft dust.
Heron himself looked on his gathering with pride and tenderness. They'd come so far, and worked so hard to defend the forest. Malost had taken from them a dozen brothers and sisters, but still they labored to save the forest.
Heron let his form flow, shifting his shape into that of his namesake, before taking wing to the sky, resolving to scout out more patches of the forest that needed to be freed from Malost's influence. From his vantage point in the sky, he spied a few such spots, where the green of the forest gave way to a barren grey. He winged his way to the nearest one, landing on a lush branch just outside its border. He surveyed the withered forest with discerning intent, looking for anything that could have risen from the curse. It was not uncommon for Malost to have left a nasty surprise for anyone who stumbled into such cursed places.
True to his expectations, Heron heard the rattling of bone on bone, in the rigid and repeated pattern of a walking skeleton. He allowed his form to flow again, shifting shape into that of a squirrel, hoping to take the undead thing by surprise. Searching around with his newly sharpened sense of smell, he followed a trail from tree to tree, leaping between branches until he found himself staring at his quarry: a humanoid skeleton. It was hunched over something near the roots of another tree, cradling something to its chest.Â
Before Heron could act, the skeleton stood. It cradled whatever it was with one hand, and used the other to climb the tree. Heron leapt onto another nearby tree in order to gain a better vantage point, and what he saw astounded him.Â
In the skeleton's hand, cradled carefully to its chest, was a baby bird. The skeleton's empty eye sockets were trained on a bird's nest, where two more baby birds chirped their hunger incessantly. The skeleton nimbly climbed the tree and carefully placed the bird into the nest with its siblings. After looking things over, presumably to be sure that the baby bird wouldn't fall again, the skeleton simply dropped from the tree, falling freely and landing messily, bones flying everywhere.Â
Heron looked at the scattered bones, wondering if the skeleton had accidentally done his job for him, when the bones flew together on their own accord, assembling the skeleton in a supine position. It got up without brushing itself off, and simply wandered off.
Heron stared at the skeleton, baffled by its behavior. He'd often heard that the undead were creatures of habit, mindlessly repeating the actions imprinted upon the body in life and by whoever raised or commanded it, but he'd never heard of a mindless undead doing something so… odd. Heron followed the skeleton from a distance, curious to see if it would do anything else. It didn't, it simply kept walking in the tireless manner that the undead do. After a few minutes, Heron came down from the trees and allowed his form to flow into his native form, a human clad in the robes and signs of his order. He stood in front of the skeleton, barring its path. It stopped, and simply stood.
"...do you speak?" Heron's voice carried far in the forest, but the skeleton made no sign of acknowledgement. "Can you understand me?"
Still nothing.
Heron approached the skeleton, who made no move to react.
As Heron studied the skeleton's form and figure, an idea came to him. The purpose of his order was to protect the forest from the unnatural, and reclaim the land from evil. While one could say that the skeleton before him was unnatural, surely, one could not say that it was evil. As such, Heron could keep the skeleton in the name of reclamation, if only…
"Please, can you speak?"
The skeleton simply stood still, acknowledging nothing.
Heron sighed and raised a hand, preparing to destroy the undead when another idea struck him. It would take some time, but that was alright. His circle needed rest. It would be just long enough for them to truly feel rested when he returned.
With their new brother.