Woodman Rose Valerie

The morning mist clung to the floor of the ancient woodland, smelling of damp earth and decaying leaves. Elias, a man whose hands were as rough and gnarled as the oak roots he traversed, moved silently through the undergrowth. He was the woodman of Harrow’s Hill, and he knew these trees better than he knew the lines on his own face.

One winter, a Great Frost descended upon the Whispering Woods. The trees groaned under the weight of the ice, and the ground was frozen solid. Elias, worried for Rose Valerie's safety, sought her out in her favorite clearing. He found her shivering, her petals pale and brittle. woodman rose valerie

Valerie stepped closer, the frost seeming to retreat from her bare feet. "She belongs to the earth, Woodman. But she requires a guardian. In the village, they say you have a heart of oak—strong, but silent. Is there room in that heart for something fragile?" The morning mist clung to the floor of

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Valerie looked up at him, a smile breaking across her face like dawn. "Can you fix a wall, woodman?" One winter, a Great Frost descended upon the

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