Caber shook with revulsion at the very sight of the grisly wound. By the Sidhe and the ancient Gods, he could not imagine that even the Winter Court damaging such a venerable oak in this shameful fashion. He would shriek if it didn't cause attention, so instead he looked around the broken backyard, eyes glinting a golden color now that he was within close range to a rod of iron. 

"Filthy despoilers. I will sacrifice their bones to Morrigan to build her Raven's nest!" 

He needed to calm himself and think. The foliage had been shriveled and slaughtered like pigs. He didn't know what to do? Briefly he began to zip around the backyard, floating like a ghost as he searched. His nose drank in deep whiffs of the grass and rankled oak, trying to find a tinge of something else he could use, or perhaps to inhale enough of the life essence to gain the strength to remove the blasted iron rod. 

During his inner monologue where blood flowed and the carnal pleasures of torturing his enemies eked out of his muttering lips, he noticed something. Something made of aluminium on the ground. It had a strange sensation to its presence, but it was not iron. Upon further inspection, it was what the humans referred to as a bike. A recent invention used the past two centuries. 

With hands that held an otherworldly strength beyond their physical size, Caber swooped in and lifted the bike, a devilish but simple plan in his head. He gingerly approached the iron that had been so stabbed into the ancient oak, and slid the tire of the bicycle down its length, before twisting the wheel, locking the wheel and the iron bar together. 

With a great tug, he reluctantly ripped the metal rod out by the bike wheel. Sap flowed outwards. Caber placed his hands under the sap and lifted it to his lips, drinking greedily, a sense of power now thriving in his limbs. A portion of the tree's wisdom and strength now ran through his body, and he used it to seal the wound on the tree as he chanted, placing his hands on the trunk and reciting an incantation on a language so ancient that even the celts only knew it in legends and myth. 

Soon, he would feel the trees life returning. It's presence and attention now on Caber, as if waking from a long coma. 
[@Penny]