She waits for them, seated upon the lower hanging boughs of one of the still-healthy trees in the Wildwood. Leaves settle in her red locks, crowning her in the fiery colours of Leafchange, and she sits and hums a gentle tune to the woods around her.
"Come," she says softly, and somehow the words will seem to echo and ring out to those who were there the night that the great gourd made its approach on the forest. "You who have saved these great woods from more pain. Come and tell me your wishes, and I will see them made real."
Sum of all, and by them, driven
To conquer every mountain shown