When Ashlynn spoke, offering to pay whatever price the Ancient Oak demanded of her, the wind grew in intensity, whipping through the branches and shaking the leaves of the mighty oak. The spring chill in the air gave way to a warmer breeze that felt like it blew in from early summer, shaking the tree fiercely until a loud -CRACK- sounded, high up in the branches of the tree.
A moment later, a small branch, roughly the length of Ashlynn's arm, came tumbling down through the tree's canopy before a gust of wind brought it to land at her feet. Three leaves clung to the branch and with them, a small cluster of acorns.
