Characters and main story belong to Disney.
Happy Halloween!
Whereas legend has it, the trees never die down by the Moors. Instead, they wake under the pale light of the moon when mortal folk fall asleep and they sink back into slumber just before dawn breaks over the autumn hills.
Down by the Moors, there is a trace of magic that lingers, especially on Samhain when the Veil between this domain and the next is at its thinnest.
Down by the Moors, whispers start to stir.
There has been many sightings overtime; traveling merchants, milk maids, and farmers preparing for the Harvest all have sworn on their mothers' graves that they have caught a glimpse of the Winged One. An apparition of long dark hair and golden silk sleeves billowing in the wind as she floats amongst the leaves, having a faithful raven always circling around her.
Down by the Moors, that's where she will be, silently roaming along its grassy routes and its old running creek.
Down by the Moors, she may be heard humming softly to herself, remembering a lullaby about someone she knows once upon a dream. Additional accounts say she may not sing down by the Moors, or be accompanied by a bird...but instead, she might be holding hands with a tall man dressed as darkly as the night as they disappear into the mist.
Years ago, a healthy line of fair Queens once have ruled over the Two Kingdoms, helping the Moors stay protected and shelter all the creatures who dwelled there. But daughter after daughter, Queen after beloved Queen has succumbed to old age and then a natural mortal death, ultimately one day, leaving the Moors in the mercy of ignorant builders who harbored a growing desire for copper and steel. The Moors had been disregarded completely and plagued by constant clouds of grey smoke during this new Age of Industry, eventually chasing the Other Ones off. It caused them to retreat and put up an enchanted wall around the parts of their domain that have not been touched by mankind yet.
So, on Samhain, when that wall parts, the Winged One will dutifully return to what the Two Kingdoms are now, privately tending the isolated Moors by twilight.
Men are busier than ever inventing contraptions with turning wheels and fiery engines, replacing their horses for buggies, their simpler plows for automatic mills. No one else spends their time pondering about the old magics anymore.
Though, if one ever does hope to see the mysterious Winged One, then they should look down by the Moors on this night.
Walk there and call the Moors beautiful and take in its potential glory to flourish again.
Only then, might she show herself and offer a little taste of her power.
Down by the Moors, take heed, child, and listen very carefully.
For if the lone raven calls out, then she is also near.