A girl walks through a deep forest, humming a song that her mother taught her.
In the distance, birds trill. Closer still, the sounds of young animal footsteps echo merrily against the caverns of dark growing green. The sunlight casts green dappled light onto the girl's freckled skin as she walks easily through these woods. Her step is light and sure and crunches the leaves and branches underfoot.
Everything is as it should be, as it has been, as it will be.
And then it changes.
A cloud passes overhead, and the light that was green becomes dark and brooding and full of mystery.
The girl is frightened, but still hums, even as the birds begin to quiet and the animals seek out shelter against what they sense as a coming storm. The song that the girl hums is like a bulwark against the fear and mistrust of the mystery inherent in the darkness that begins to stretch underfoot. Shadows lengthen. Branches become claws. A hollow wind begins, chilling the air as the darkness chills the light, turns innocent mystery to something darker still.
The song dies.
