Legend be told, a maiden was living in the forest off of the village. Her voice could be heard by travellers and hunters alike.

A voice like none other. Beauty and divine. However the young man, John MacTavish, was never scared of those stories. Yes, he believed them... But so what if there was a beautiful maiden in the forest?

It was now winter, the village ran low of food. And he was one of the villages top hunters. There was no time for legends.

He walked through the trees, only small sights of light beams from the sun as he prepared his quiver and hunting bow.

He sought his sights on a large buck, merely grazing on the grass below. He aimed, shot, and got the kill. That's when he heard it. The voice.

He turned his head to it's direction, picking up the buck by it's hind legs. Dragging it along with him.

John came upon a large, old willow. And there she was...

A maiden with a white long dress, singing. He recognised the old folk song, but her beauty was more what he was focused on.

He called to her;

"Come with me my maiden. Come from the willow..."