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Unmarred by any development the forest stood deep and dark. Snow heavily fell onto the ground and the trees, swirling about in a lax wind. Great-Striker moved through the forest with a sluggard pace. His mind was tired and he was in search of a place to rest. He slowly trotted through the snow, each step feeling as if it was great usage of will. He could hear the faint calamitous sounds behind him. The noise of yelling, shouting, and keening slowly faded into the gentle wind. His left eye had been frozen shut by his tears, his right was kept open by constant wiping, as to not let the tears settle. The cold soon drifted through his black scales and reached his body, shivers set in. The forest grew darker and denser as he continued, forcing him to watch each step more as not to trip on hidden roots. The blood from his tattered wings left behind him a faint crimson trail in the snow as he walked. The ground started to slope gently upward, slowing his pace. He went on like this for some time before spotting something. A faint blue ember of light drifted in front of him before whirling away. He followed it, picking up his pace. It drifted around trees and shrubs until it lead him to a great pine tree. Cracks in the tree glowed, pouring out a pale blue light. The ember fluttered into the tree, vanishing. He gently reached out and touched the tree, upon doing so he blinked. Looking around he saw that he now stood in an endless field, the tree still there. The sun was on the horizon and the air was warm. The field had what seemed to be countless gaunt sculptures of dragons with glowing pale blue flowers growing out of them. Each bloom seemed ephemeral, as if they could fade from sight in a second. But they stood, swaying in the wind but never uprooted. Great-Striker took a closer look at one of the sculptures and saw that it was actually a corpse, its putrefaction halted by grave wax. He walked around more, he soon felt himself being drawn to something. As he walked to the source of his pull, he spotted strange little animals feeding off of the flowers, rushing and scurrying between the adipocere bodies. After a while he found what he was drawn to. It was one of his friends; his friend was posed standing, looking off into the sun. The blooms grew out all around the body, swaying in the wind and barely visible in the sunlight. He faintly smiled and wrapped his fore-legs and tattered wings around his friend. With a deep breath he soon fell asleep. The new flowers slowly grew out of the grave wax.