In the Forested Heartland lay a land of splendor. Springs gushed from the hillsides and clear waters danced throughout the country. Sprites administered a peaceful reign and their loyal subjects paid them homage. Badgers frolicked along the streams' banks, owls stood gracefully as sages of the trees. Along the edges of the Heartland visited the merfolk. They commanded the waves and called down rain from the heavens.

The winter brought harsh times, but the denizens of the Forested Heartland endured with the help of the sprites' magic. Spring gave newfound hope, ripening blossoms, and the fresh scent of rain. With summer came lush foliage and a mild climate and autumn was the season of painted winds, for the air carried with it leaves of a brilliance in color.

Indeed, the land was splendid. From sea, to forest, to mountain high, the country fulfilled their fantasies and drew their dreams nigh.

Mrs. Raven had recently attained motherhood. She surveyed her nest with fierce pride upon the oak tree's branch. Her nestlings cried for attention and she hopped over to them.

"What is it, my dear children?" asked she. "What may I do to please? Hungry art thou? Then gather supper I shall." And so she flew off in search of her favorite meal, mice.

Over mountain and yonder hill flew she. Her wings swooshed up and down with grace and ease. The landscape rose and fell as though dancing to the rhythm. Shades of jumping colors and leaves swirled around until a glen sprung forth and she landed her talons upon the ground.

Not all was well; there did so lurk in the woods a sly and cunning creature. Out of his lair came he, a fox, as scheming and dishonest as they get. Mr. Fox knew Mrs. Raven well and thus decided to meet her at her nest.

Along the familiar path trotted Mr. Fox towards Mrs. Raven's tree called home. With a strut and a grin, he kicked up leaves, his furry mind full of mischief. Walking this way, as fate would to it belong, he would be reaching his destiny anon.

Mrs. Raven unfurled her wings back at the nest to reveal her tasty treat, a mouse, juicy and plump.

"Mrs. Raven, Mrs. Raven!" hollered Mr. Fox from below. "If it so do you please, will you have compassion on a friend and let me have a taste of your kill?"

"Why should I trust you? What reason is there for me to share?"

"Oh," began Mr. Fox with sad eyes. "But if you were to give me a small morsel, I would promise to help you on your next hunt. I could be a big help."

"Why should I believe you? Leave me be!" She presently paid him no heed and ignored his request until the next day when the new hunt commenced.

Over mountain and yonder hill flew she. Her wings swooshed up and down with grace and ease. The landscape rose and fell as though dancing to the rhythm. Shades of jumping colors and leaves swirled around until a glen sprung forth and she landed her talons upon the ground.

Along the familiar path trotted Mr. Fox towards Mrs. Raven's tree called home. With a strut and a grin, he kicked up leaves, his furry mind full of mischief. Walking this way, as fate would to it belong, he would be reaching his destiny anon.

Mrs. Raven displayed the usual feast and was about to begin to eat.

"Mrs. Raven!" rose the voice of Mr. Fox. "Let me feed."

"How now? What is it?"

"I am starving," Mr. Fox interrupted himself with a weak cough. "Please help me."

"Nice try. I am not so easily fooled by your trickery." Then came evening and morning with a new day.

Over mountain and yonder hill flew she. Her wings swooshed up and down with grace and ease. The landscape rose and fell as though dancing to the rhythm. Shades of jumping colors and leaves swirled around until a glen sprung forth and she landed her talons upon the ground.

Along the familiar path trotted Mr. Fox towards Mrs. Raven's tree called home. With a strut and a grin, he kicked up leaves, his furry mind full of mischief. Walking this way, as fate would to it belong, he would be reaching his destiny anon.

"Mrs. Raven! how intelligent you are," spake the fox in a suave manner. "You must be pretty smart to be able to capture plump mice from that glen everyday. Mrs. Raven! how graceful you are. You fly like the queen of the skies. Mrs. Raven! how beautiful you are. Your feathers are as black as ebony and your beak chiseled as ornate onyx."

"Why, thank-"

As soon as she began her reply, the mouse she had been holding came tumbling out of her beak, and plummeted towards the forest floor. With a dive, Mr. Fox snatched his prize from the air, and scampered off into the brush faster than Mrs. Raven could have closed her beak again.