There was only one thing left to do as she pulled the frozen weeds from the ground as she cleared the way to the old stump. She was numb from the bitter cold that enveloped around her and calloused fingers no longer responded to touch. The tough moss that adorned the stump held the ritual pot in place that had been laid there many years ago. Grains mixed with blood and honey were placed in the bowl and the mystic said a prayer for the town.
It watched her from the treeline as she performed the yearly ceremony. Saddened that they had remembered their due diligence and promise. he shook his head and stamped blackened hooves and moved on to the next mark on his route.