So this story is about the past guardian spirits in Niwen, the spirit Willows children. How their land fell to decay, and their unfortunate fates.
Chapter 1: Ziv
It was a chilly day in Baur's Reach, and Ziv was swiftly charting the snowy area as he curled up in a ball to warm his fur that was now forming small icicles. At least the ink was quickly drying from the unforgiving wind that breezed by, but it was slowing his progress. "Why did I have to be assigned for this?" He questioned aloud through chattering teeth. His fellow spirits had all agreed to map out their forest, since almost no one left the Willow Tree. But the brave ones who dared leave their safe home, never returned to tell the tale. It was winter time, and for this region it was especially cold since year round it was always a little chilly, even in the summer time. It seemed like the light from the spirit Willow was the only thing keeping the Reach from completely freezing over. His paws were stained with black and blue ink, and little splotches were appearing all over his body as he continued forward. If he tried hard enough, he could ignore the freezing cold and focus on the beautiful scenery that surrounded him. Pine trees with furry branches sprouting, caverns with pinkish orange sunlight peeking through signaling sunset was upon him, and the entire area blanketed in fluffy white snow. Maybe he was the right one for this job, he had extra thick fur, and the gift of fire. He couldn't imagine anyone else trying this, picturing a small weak spirit shivering violently in a corner disturbed him. He couldn't exactly use his gift every two seconds, he had to be very careful when he placed his flame on the ground because to his surprise, underneath the snow was a very flammable forest. He had had a few close calls so far, resulting in a small pine tree crashing down and a few dozen splashes of water used in putting it out. Once he had finished, he carefully rolled the scroll back up and placed it in his bag along with the curiously shaped ink pots and their tiny wooden plugs to stop the spill. Once securing the fold on his bag, he set out to climb the next challenging part of this quest: the mountains. He sighed in dreading what lay ahead of him, he knew this part would be the hardest, and coldest. "Here goes nothing..." he gulped, forcing his legs to move forward despite his gut telling him to turn and run back to the sunny clearing of the Spirit Willow. Each step brought him closer and closer to the impossibly tall mountain range, and he got a big "your going to regret this later" message from what he was looking at. Steep cliffs slipping and dripping with sloshy wet ice, and he could tell there was no way he could make it very far up without losing his grip and tumbling downwards into the bushes beside him. But Ivar is expecting me to return soon... he thought, and pictured the tall white spirit pacing in circles worrying about him, his thin curvy ears drooping with anxiety. He shook the image from his head. Ivar knew this was a difficult mission, and therefore it took more time. Well the longer I sit here the longer it'll take, he reminded himself. His bluish white paws brushed against the rocky mountain, and he pulled back with a shiver. This would take a while.