Why are the willows weeping?

Clay was probably Dagrún's favorite thing and the clever little girl had managed to convince one of Fireside's wolves to take her on another trip. This time she was going with Halla. They were related since they had the same last name but she wasn't really sure exactly how they were related. Halla had said and she'd forgotten. Cousins or something? Not that it really mattered. They'd worked their way south and then in a round about way ended up in a forest of willows. They'd been trying to go directly south east but they'd kept on bumping into pack after pack. Apparently the east was really popular. Dagrún had to admit that it was really pretty.

They soon found a place to rest and while Halla got started on finding fire wood, Dagrún snuck off to find a good place to play with her clay. She soon found a fallen willow tree that looked like it had been split in half. The fallen half had folded over leaving the wood exposed and fairly horizontal. Like a table! Dag bounded over to it and set her clay bundle down. She started kneading the clay when she noticed a pink man. "Wow, hey! You look like a flower, how come your fur is pink?"