By the blessed bark, such a sight was well beyond the ken of mere shrubbery, and the idle roll of mortal foe went unnoticed in the wake of such a monstrosity. Even when the sturdy stone struck softly against the buried branch, a quiet hung over the two stalwart warriors. Surely the great beast would've aided the stone in some way had that been its purpose, yet it casually strolled deeper into the forest. Such complacency was shameful, and so the mighty matriarch swayed harder in the growing wind, all but one of its branches in harmony until it finally snapped. Whirling through the air this broken brother sailed, stabbing the earth as it landed halfway to its battle-weary friend to hold aloft its base, that which had lived closest to the mother tree. In that wooden gore gleamed the broken piece of an axe from many winters ago, before the branch had grown, proudly bearing this reminder of its enemy, its purpose, since the beginning; all hail the over-treer.

Lightning lanced down to the freshly-freed branch, greedily eyeing sweet metal within, and as it burned its brother and their stony foe were struck by the shock-wave. The wounded wooden warrior refused to waste this opportunity, and so managed to snag itself on a tuft of grass as it flipped over the stone. Just as the rock rolled over onto the bending branch the momentum slowed, but the smoldering stick was bombarded by another bolt, refusing to yield its plated prize. Pressurized oils burned in the broken branch, screaming out as gaseous vents while the soldier's insides melted and boiled; all hail the over-treer. The torque of its sibling stick beneath the stone, combined with the force of another shock-wave, managed to fling the foe up to roll along proffered branches throughout the forest. Once more the scarred stick fell short, only springing a few feet into the air, but with a final glance between them, its brother stretched its smoldering remains just a little higher, offering the red-hot axe piece to the gods. Once more the lightning fell.

This time the wave blanketed a silent forest, flinging the solemn stick airborne and helping the skilled stone roll along to another branch. The two warriors were guided in quiet onto the gently rolling back of the beast that had spawned from that crimson portal. Only when they landed on that ocean of undulating fur did all the sounds of the world come roaring back, the howling wind and groaning bark; the storm was nearly upon them. The battle-hardened branch did little but roll idly back and forth as the giant creature trotted deeper into the forest, to the very foot of the mountain. It was after several long moments, and with respect evident in its grain that the stick turned again towards its spherical enemy. It longed to return to the base of its over-treer, but the wooden warrior knew full well that the hopes of its kind lay on its barken shoulders; it could not back down now. The wind whipped up through the branches of many foreign trees, all with the same intent; break, break the stone, break it now.