It was a little past dusk in Inverness. This far North, in the summer that meant that it was well past ten in the evening before it was really dark, so it was only in the last half hour that the Madin shrine had become truly quiet. During the long summer evenings acolytes often sat together after dinner and relaxed in surroundings where they felt most at home, and at this time of year younger elementals often visited to continue their studies.
Except even now there was nobody sitting on the soft grass or leaning against the massive oak tree that formed the centrepoint of the shrine, it wasn't truly deserted. While the Incin elementals were used to having their Harbinger in his flame form at the centre of their shrine, those of Madin were still getting used to the tragedy that one of their number had apparently been irreversibly forced into her elemental form and now resided in their own sacred earth. The small ash tree that used to be known as Linnet Willowsong had been transported to Inverness after various healers and alchemists had tried and failed to restore her to human form. The true tragedy was that they had even tried; it was whispered amongst the older elementals that the various spells and potions that had been tried may well have caused Linnet to retreat further into her tree form, that she may never regain her humanity even with the aid of the oldest Madin scholars.
Linnet, standing in the cool darkness of the Madin shrine, was unaware of any of this. She had spent the day as she had every other since being transported here, photosynthesising peacefully under the summer Sun's rays as they filtered down into the shrine. Her roots were now comfortably embedded in the earth, her branches reaching towards the dark sky and roof of the shrine. Two of the acolytes measured her every day; so far she had remained steadfastly at a fraction over six feet tall. They argued - and perhaps, hoped - that while she didn't grow, there was still enough of her left that she may one day manage to return to her human form. But for now she remained, quiet and unresponsive in the summer night.
Until there was a change, a warmth, something bright that her leaves sensed and slowly turned towards, the movement so fractional not even the best of muggle time-lapse cameras would have captured it. As if it was still the middle of the afternoon the tree responded in her own tiny way to what seemed to her to be a reappearance of the sun, relishing the unexpected warmth.
