• Love of a Dryad


    Her heart, body, and soul belonged to the oak tree she inhabited. With a face that looked as if it was kissed by the great Apollo’s sun; a golden brown coating her body like a thick glossy paint. Long mocha colored hair settled in gentle waves about her exposed shoulders. Her slim, tanned body was covered by a knee length emerald dress. She looked out on the forest that her great oak was rooted to with an orange gaze. She was a young dryad, the name given to the nymphs living within the strong oaks of a great forest.

    It was autumn, Corinna’s favorite time of year. It was when the leaves on her great strong tree turned a crisp orange, yellow or brown. The earth would be kept warm by the blanket that would soon cover it as autumn met winter, but not yet. No, there was still a time for her to enjoy the sweet cool air that would caress her branches, feel the small critters tickle her skin as they collected their winter’s food, readying for their long sleep, when all in the forest would be quiet. It would be the time when the men and women in the world would cuddle to one another, express their affection in ways odd to her. She’d only roamed from her tree once… but that one time had been enough to see the love that engulfed the mortal world.

    She had never felt love, nor had she had the chance to know the touch of another. She longed for that feeling that had been described to her by the few other nymphs she had known, a feeling of caring, warmth, and safety, something other than the embrace of the beloved bark covered limbs that wrapped around her.

    Fearing of spreading her sorrow to her precious autumn painted oak, she separated, moving from within its comforting hold like a spirit transferring from its body to the heavens. She sat gracefully against the strong roots, her fingers playing aimlessly with the crunchy leaves scattering the warm earth. A chilling autumn wind blew, moving her hair in the same manner as the sway of the tree top. The snap of a twig made her freeze in her meaningless action; her fingers paused over a brown wrinkled leaf. Another crack sounded... Her feet were under her in seconds, her head turned in the direction of the noise.

    With fear gripping her shy heart, she jumped back, into the safety of the known… back to the tree she had left not moments ago. Seemed no freedom of her self imprisonment would last… she was far too scared of the outside, of its surprises. But still… curiosity made her stare out. It made her watch as a young man stepped through the brush, and dead pine.

    His hair was the color of new maple sap, falling just below his small ears. His skin was toned lighter then her own, but still seemed just as smooth. He was tall… wearing the typical hunters’ garb of brown pants and tunic, a bow and quiver of arrows slung to his back. His face… mighty Zeus his face… he looked like the brilliant forger’s Hephaestus’s work, made and built to perfection. Had there been no scars on his built arms she would have mistaken him for a god.

    The young dryad felt her heart beat quicken as she watched him go to one knee to touch the leaves at his feet, checking for the tracks of a buck or doe. His mouth contorted in a straight line, eyebrows knitted in concentration. He stood, releasing a long drawn out sigh, just barley loud enough for her to hear. The thundering against her ribs began to ache as she watched him leave. Her hand slipped from the tree’s confines, a desperate want to follow him… if only just to observe.

    As he disappeared from view, she was almost too sure… she had experienced love. She loved that man, her little forest hunter…. And she couldn’t wait to see him again.