Not a day went by where the sound of oars lapping the water did not break the silence of those serene woods. Just as the sun would always shine, just as the trees would always rustle in the breeze and the flowers would always bloom, the boats would come.

A man pushed open the front door of the old wooden building by the river and stepped outside. He was tall in build, and a bit hard to see. Nobody could really get a good look at his face, though most knew him in one way or another. He sucked in the forest air and sighed. This was his home, and this was his duty.

The faint knock of wood against wood let him know that yet another boat had moored on the small dock just down by the shore. He did not bother to put on his shoes, nor did he bother to lock up his home. He simply strode with a straight back and a purposeful gait down to the water where he saw the boats had already begun to drift towards the shore.

The man stepped out onto the dock, his feet made no sound and the wood did not rock. He approached the fine carved wood of the vessel and stared gingerly at its passenger. Another old friend had come back to visit yet again. If only this were a happier occasion. The man smiled. It was a thin smile, full of emotion. Full of love, and pain, and sorrow.

She was laying on a sheet made of the finest white silk, but even then her skin looked so pale. Her ears were long, longer than the branches of a Shortwillow, an old old friend indeed. Her chest did not rise, nor did it fall. Her eyes did not open, her voice did not call out in greeting. She was as still as the water in which she arrived. Her flesh spent, her soul returned. This was how it always went.

The man did not weep. He did not show a hint of sorrow, but he cradled her so gently it was as if she were made of glass. He lifted her in her silks and held her close in his arms as if she were a child. In a sense, he could say she was.

He did not delay, he did not have time. His feet found the dirt path winding into the woods behind his home and they rhythmically placed themselves one after another. One after another. He walked with her, passing under trees and by bushes adorned with the most beautiful flowers. He would linger by some, but only those he knew were her favorites. He would pass by others without a second thought. He had no time to waste, not today. He strode purposefully down that old dirt path, never craning his neck to see the sights, but always leaning her head this way and that as if to insure she wouldn't miss a thing.

The two of them danced along that winding dirt path until it faded into a tangle of roots and grass and the deep tangling woods spread out before them. He stopped and looked up through the canopies and treetops at the sapphire blue sky that peered back at him. "Now, where were we..?" He asked himself, his voice carrying no tone, no emotion. "aha!" he exclaimed in that same constant tone. "Here you are."

He began walking again. Just as surely as he lead her down the path he now strode over rocks and bushes, roots and trees. He pressed on until he found himself standing in a small, overgrown clearing. A white tree, with odd white leaves burst out of the ground before him. It was smaller than many of the others, but just as beautiful. From afar, it almost looked like it was covered in snow.

He stepped forward gingerly and laid her down at its trunk. The wind cut through the clearing and rustled the frayed blackish brown tassels of his robe. He sucked in that wind and let it stir his lungs, then he began to speak.

"One day your soul will sprout anew, my friend. It will fill these woods and those beyond with a radiant and blinding light. A powerful love. It will be the anchor that holds those close to you to their convictions. It will be the wisdom to bring joy to those in your life... as you had in this one. But now, you must rest. You have earned that much, have you not?" He leaned down and pressed his hand against her chest. Her translucent white skin faded to a deep grey before it began to crack and crumble off in chunks.

The man stood. There was nothing more for him here. His friend was gone once again, another visit cut far too short. He made his way back towards the trail that bore him into the heart of the woods. This time he did not stop to look at the flowers, or admire the light cutting through the trees. No, there was far too much to do. The next guest would have already arrived long ago.

At the end of everything there is a beautiful forest. There, the sun always shines, and a cool breeze always blows. The sun always tickles the skin with a faint warmth, and the breeze carries the scents of nature. There, an old man sits and waits, patiently welcoming each of his old friends home. Though they never stay long, and they never say much, at least this way he can remember.