Ward around the Old Forest

There were stories told to her when she was a young child, about the night of the old year transcending into the new. Tales of evil in many forms growing in power, threatening the land and its people. 
Every year, on that particular night, she'd travel with her mother to ward the areas, much like her grandma did before her and her great-grandmother before that.

Many know the stories told about the Old Forest and the feeling of dread, creeping up on those who enter. Of trees moving and whispering. Some say that a person can enter, but not return, while others claim that if anyone manages to come back, they do so with a broken mind.
Knowing these stories well, she travels around its borders, stopping to carve the ward into the ground. Every year, on the same patch of ground, the deep lines are carved out again, filled with salt and a chant uttered, to keep dread at bay and prevent it from seeping further into the land, by air or root.