[Trphlthdl]

The Oak
The Oak began as a sapling on The Grandfather's
land, and grew for many many years. Recently
though, a storm blew it down and The Grandfather
cut a section of it's trunk out to carve into a puppy
for his granddaughter, The Girl. It now lives with
The Girl and her father, a two days walk from
The Grandfather. Also referred to as: The
Wooden Dog.

The Grandfather
The Girl's grandfather, who carved a dog out
of The Oak's trunk to give to his granddaughter.
Either has Wood Elf or Nymph blood allowing him
to carve things that live. Discovered this after
carving a small dragon, which was a mess. Often
carved small animals and had them play with his
children, most of which have since had a falling
out with him. Wonders if his granddaughter has
similar blood.

The Girl
Born ill she is a very sickly girl. Many times
her parents feared she would not make it,
and she's treasured by The Grandfather as
his only granddaughter allowed to speak to
him, as years ago her father's siblings had a
falling out with their father The Grandfather.
The Oak is her dog. Also referred to as Oak's
Girl.

The Son
The Grandfather's son and The Girl's father,
vaguely remembered the Grandfather's dancing
figures, but thought they were all a dream.
Confused and doesn't really know how to
react now that he knows the Dancing Figures
were real.

Stories I plan to write:
Grandfather and the 'dragon'
How The Oak gets the bow
The Girl and The Oak run away to grandpa's house

[Trphlthdl]

The tree had fallen in a recent storm. It lay on the ground, its life slowly draining away as it's roots failed to pull up enough sustenance. It was scared and anxious, but also glad. It's saplings had been struggling to grow under its wide boughs for years, and now exposed to the sunlight they got the chance. It was for the best really.

The saplings would miss their parent, growing faithfully in the warm sunlight and cold winters, but were happy to get their chance. Though the trees were silver liners at heart, they knew this was the end for the old oak. So with great sorrow they mourned and rejoiced. They did not know another had the same feelings at heart.

The older man who owned this land had a young granddaughter, and frail and sickly as she may have been her wish for a puppy made her eyes twinkle and her face light up. The twinkle in her eyes and the wide smile had all but disappeared when she found that she'd been allergic to dogs. Her grandfather, with a fix-it personality at heart, had set it upon himself to get her a puppy, and so a puppy she would get.

It wouldn't be flesh and blood, no, but he hoped it'd be enough. So he hiked back to his small cabin to bring back an axe to separate a section of the old oak's trunk to set in his garage and begin carving.

The garage, as the oak saw it, was dark and dusty but smelled of home with the musty pipe smell and slight dampness one can never quite get rid of deep in the woods.

And so the oak remembered when the girl's grandfather cut it's trunk in two places in the woods, but it also remembered when it picked out the shape of it's body deep in the wood. It remembered when it was carved into the rough shape of a dog, much like the hunting hounds they often saw in the woods. It remembered, again, when the old man began to carve it's ears out and how slowly it was able to hear every noise in the small workshop clearly. When the old man carved the eyes, it could see the wall in front of it. The nose was next, and it could smell the fumes from the pipe and must that every good cabin has. With it's mouth came thirst and hunger, but the oak was careful not to move for that would hurt and they'd been through enough of that. Their chest was next, and the man took great care in shaping their body. The tail, though beyond the legs, came before them carved into a slim whip-like shape that itched to wag but could not. With the legs came the urge to run and jump and play, and the paws brought the sensation on the wood below it's feet. Though freed from the wood that was once tall and grand and happy before becoming a prison, the oak would not move.

The man though, worried about his granddaughter. She'd been growing weaker, and it was far past time she got a dog. So he picked up the carving and began to walk. It was a two day walk to his son's house, but he made it in one and was there to give his granddaughter her puppy. Her eyes lit up, but she was tired. She thanked her grandfather for the carved dog who's ears she stroked gently, and kept her eyes open as long as he could but soon fell asleep. The oak, now in the shape of a dog, stood next to her bed. It twitched it's ear, and delighting in the movement, began to bound around the room with it's newfound mobility. A sigh from the girl who had just minutes before stroked it's ears soon stilled the oak once more. Slowly, it crept towards the bed and sniffed the girls hand. Jumping as gently as it could onto the bed, it curled up next to the girl in an attempt to comfort her even in her sleep. It didn't notice when the grandfather peeked in and smiled, taking quiet delight in his granddaughter's puppy, but didn't know how to explain the moving mannequin to his son. The oak opened it's eyes, peering at the old man, who merely smiled a melancholy smile and turned away to speak to his son.

[Trphlthdl]

As the girl slept in her bed with The Oak keeping watch, The Grandfather stood in the kitchen with his son. He didn't know how to explain the dog to his son, and hadn't known if he still had the talent to create such a large figure. He opened his mouth to speak, before turning outside to find a black of wood. It'd be much easier to just show him.

The rotting leaves shuffled under his feet, wet from the recent rain and decomposing they'd been doing. It took him awhile to find a suitable block, and began carving as he walked back to the cabin. He chose something easy to craft, a small moth. Being wood it wouldn't cause harm to any clothing in the house, and would probably just be annoying if it chose to be such. It was in a rough shape as he walked in through the door, his son merely glancing up and choosing not to speak. Sure, they weren't on the best of terms, after the falling out several years ago with all of his children, but he had stayed and The Grandfather was grateful for that.

He finished the final touches on the moth and set his carving knife down, wrapping him hand around the waking moth. Most of them woke up as soon as they were carved, so when the dog didn't he was sure he hadn't had the talent any longer. It was his good hearing that had topped him off to The Oak's awakening. He was glad to have been able to give the old watchful tree new life, but for now it was time to release the moth fluttering in his hands.

The Grandfather set his free hand on his son's shoulder and turned him around so they faced each other. Looking down at his palm he opened his hand to reveal the moth. His son had known about the talent when he was a young boy, but somewhere along the way assumed it had been a dream. Is was possible he'd forgotten after the fire killed the boy's mother, and the old man had been too tired and sad to make any more of the figures.

Until now of course, his Granddaughter was so crushed and this was his only solution.

His son gaped as the wooden moth flew out of The Grandfather's hand, and the Grandfather watched as the wheels turned in his son's head before he brushed his father aside to run to check his daughter's room. He saw The Oak curled up on his daughter's bed, and turned to see his father had followed him. The Grandfather was surprised by the sudden embrace his son gave him, but all the same it was wonderful that his son was being just a little bit friendlier. It was one step of many.