It was said that in the days of yore that the land was lush and green. That a man could walk from one end of the world to the other and encounter wild untamed lands of enchanted beauty and diverse creatures. But the world has moved on and the mythical lands which once were, are no more. Rumors still tell of places untouched by time and the downfall of man.

Roric was a ranger as his father had been. He tended the lands that his father had been bonded to and lived as one with the creatures of the forest. He was a warder, and for his entire life he let no one harm the land he called his own.

He had been plagued by dreams of late, dreams of such beauty that some mornings he woke and felt like weeping. Sometimes it was because of the beauty of the sites he had seen other times because he woke to a drab world that paled in comparison to the magnificent vistas his unconscious mind drew around him.

The strangest thing about his dreams was that they seemed so real... Sometimes he had even brought things back from where his dreams had led, one day a small twig from a plant he could not identify. Being a ranger and knowing all of the plants that grew in any of the nearby regions he was thouroughly bewildered at this new plant.

He had wandered the lands thereafter looking for a hint of where he could have walked in his sleep and picked up this strange twig that was decorated by a single silver leaf. He roamed from the small forested valley in which he lived through the mountain ranges that bordered both the north and the south. No plant he passed in his travels looked remotely like this small specimen.

As he took to wandering further and further away from his home and sleeping in the open his dreams became more and more strange. Perhaps, he thought, it was the fresh air. He had been cooped up all winter in his small cabin and thought that the increased exercise would do him some good. But each night he was whisked away to a magical place that seemed to be his alone. Until one night he was joined by a woman who defied the constraints of earthly beauty.

Her fragile features seemed to be carved from crystal the sharp planes and lines of her face, while perfect in execution, were still soft and feminine. Her age was impossible to calculate, she seemed neither old nor young. Her eyes held wisdom of ages beyond count yet her face was unlined by time and her skin soft and smooth and untouched by the elements. She never spoke, but would croon softly in a voice as rich as none he had ever heard. He wished to never wake again.

Yet, he did wake each morning to continue climbing over the hard-packed soil of the mountains around his home. For three years he spent his days moving in a wider circle up and down the mountains and his nights sitting near a clear lake or ancient forest listening to an angel sing until one day he found a small hut hidden deep within a dark forest.

As he made his way carefully around the hut he saw the one thing he did not expect to see after three years of searching. A small plant with silver leaves. He opened the small leather case he had carried with him for miles beyond count and brought out the dry, shriveled, once beautiful sprig that he had found in his pocket after a wonderful dream.

He carefully held the twig and leaf up next to the living proof he had sought and began to compare the color, shape, and texture to the living example. It had to be the same... it must be the same... it was the same. A small drop of water landed on the old, withered twig, as he looked up to see if he had somehow missed rain clouds moving in from the west and instead found himself looking into her eyes. She smiled as he looked up and he could see that another tear had formed and was about to fall from her face.

"Please do not cry, my lady." he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion "Do you know me?" he asked. In a voice as soft and clear as the morning she spoke words that he would remember for the rest of his life, "You are my life, and my love. We shall never be apart whilst I still live". Hand in hand they walked into the small hut.

They talked all night before a small warm fire and the next morning they created a new life.