森林民谣

Deep in the old forest, amidst the snow-covered tranquility, the rhythmic sound of an axe echoes as logs are split into firewood. Winter passes, spring arrives, and the icy streams of the valley thaw, bringing renewed vitality to the forest as warm sunlight breathes life back into all things. Even the firewood, now chopped into pieces, suddenly rises to its feet, dancing and singing joyfully to the cheerful rhythm of the flowing stream. At that moment, a crow carrying an aura of death streaks across the sky. It seizes a lone piece of firewood, shatters it into fragments with its sharp beak, and swallows it whole. As if assimilated, the crow’s face vanishes, its head and body transforming into a decaying log, taking on the appearance of a grim reaper. Wherever it flies, everything withers and decays. The breath of spring vanishes without a trace, and cold and death once again reign over the land...