The sun breached the tree line above, bathing the forest floor with a nurturing warmth.
Fawns trailed after their mothers as they grazed, luminous blue butterflies fluttering from flower to flower in tranquil peace.
Wind's fingers whispered through the hair of the trees, the quiet lilt of wooden flute filling the air with melodic song.
The source of noise proved to be a woman, hair like fire, eyes an emerald sheen.
Her fingers carried across the instrument with grace, tendrils of the willow tree's leaves laying rest about her head.
The music poured life into the air, the forest responding with silent happiness. Another joined her, this one's skin tinted dark by the sun, almond brown pigmenting her gaze.
The woman of fiery hair was Daiyn, as the trees seemed to murmur her name, and the second woman was Melia. They were dryadic folk, faes and caretakers of the trees.
Many hundred dwelt within the trees; their song kept their beloved forest thriving, kept their souls from withering. Such had been the way for many centuries, such would it always be.
Or so they thought.
He came, a hunter in the quiet breath of dawn break. Humans dared not traverse the forest, for it was as wild and as deadly as its caretakers.
It did not take willingly to the fainthearted, and many who entered did not step foot outside its realm again.
The forest was as cruel as it was changing, and many of the men who managed to make it out alive did not leave with their minds intact.
All was quiet in the forest at the conclusion of their song.
Melia spoke of a pretty meadow she had stumbled upon at the east side of the forest, just before a cave,
inside which dwelt millions of tiny lights that danced and gleamed in soft tangible glow to illuminate the darkness.
"The forest is ever growing - I hope to awake come morn with the curiosity of new land!" She mused, fingers spinning and weaving Daiyn's hair as a pearly grin would come to warm her face.
White marigolds burst forth from her fingers, woven together by whispered magic, and donned to her braids as embellishment.
Daiyn hummed in silent agreement, turning and pulling Melia to their feet in dance.
She began to sing, her voice a young and pretty thing, and toadstools grew wherever her step took them, eventually forming to make a perfect circle.
The laughter of dryads wafted to the trees overhead, as they shook and danced in response to the music.
A sudden pain was quick to rupture over Melia, and she cried out, hand instinctively reaching for the acorn that rested at her breast as she fell to her knees.
Daiyn's arms enveloped her in concern. "Melia? Melia?" she cried, but Melia had gone deaf to the environment that surrounded her, free hand clasping her abdomen.
My tree! Someone is hurting my tree!
* this is a sample of a short story I have published on Amazon for .99cents.
If you enjoyed the sample and would be so kind as to purchase it on Amazon, I would absolutely love and appreciate the reviews!