‘You may have noticed,’ said Maut, ‘that the Tree is on the move.’
On the edge of the town of Kottow stands the tallest (and oddest) Tree in the land. It’s a staid and solid arbour — until the Tree picks up its mighty old roots and wanders off, taking its resident band of misfits away with it. Whither goes the Tree? Not even the wizard can say.
‘There is something mighty fey about all this, or my name ain’t Diggory Stokey.’
Far away from Kottow, a forest lies lost in the mists of a dream. There’s much to mend in this hoary old wood, for the Summer’s been swept from the glittering skies, and no one’s keeping an eye on the Winter…
‘Enchanted forests,’ Mudleaf spat. ‘Bah. Like it’s been raining magic this long age through.’
The good folk of Kottow aren’t used to so wayward a magic — not even Maut Fey, the one with the sunlight behind her eyes. But magic will have its way with them, whether they will or no.
Summertide’s waiting. Can the folk of the Tree bring it back, or will the wild magic wash them away?