The Dryad and the Beast

      I’m carrying your memory like a half-forgotten wish."

                                  (Natsuri Ayuko)

Screams and pain are powerful things, especially in the vast silence offered by the unknown forest. 

For a scream can bring you trouble, or it can bring you in the safety of someone unexpected. 

While pain can clear your thoughts or make you insane. 

She felt dead when her home burned before her eyes, her life cut into the ground.

And their cries never attended, slaying her people Infront of her and she felt she would die too until he finally heard her cry.

There was a beast prowling In the forest. It had constantly been there as long as; she recalls. His orange skin, the delicate pelts of his body where she seldom rubbed and caress him.

 During those moments, he did not growl at her and let her revel in the precious warmth he offered her.

The first time they met. He rescued her; she remembered her saviour, securer, for her he was so much more than a prince or a king, every day he would follow her as they stroll the forest, he silently concealed in the brushes, or in the veils of the towering great trees.

And when he would seize his prey, she marveled at him, his alacrity, his suppleness, his softness, in this forest he was her only friend, occasionally he plays with her black hairs showing her favour

She studied herself; she possessed chocolate skin with sharp small soiled coloured eyes and a small nose but looking too deep would remind her of her folk. She always stayed in a certain part of the forest. Anywhere else she could go, yet she felt so satisfied.

She passed her time listening to imaginary music in the skies; the loneliness explained to her the importance of companionship.

She would linger in the woodland, when passed through vines, leafs, creatures and plant’s not a sound, not a subject disrupted because of her. And she did not realize why she was here.

Sometimes, however, he would take her to a certain tree stump and she would grieve so much just by glancing at it, she did not why but the winds would sing, the creatures that did not even notice her would start running, on the land.

There were times I would lie on the big stump and the meadow would flow gently, luring me to sleep. The beautiful beast with its green leaf orbs would remain by my side.

The sunlight would glow splendidly, In the forest and the magnificent trees would permit us shade, just like the blue cold water of the lake, and the flame red apples floating on the branches of my home.

He would frequently lay his head on my lap demanding me to care for him, to adore him the sweet ferocious beast of this land, his tail would play around and he would moan satisfyingly.

I recalled some things of the past, when I remain on the stump listening to the wind, and the forest I would regret on my loss, fondling my beast, admiring his bravely.

And while all this, the desire of my lost home would chase me.

But the gracious nature had to save me, my roots still placed in the land perfectly fine. There, my chance to go home, she is alive and grateful.

 But in countless situations, she attempted to go home before the beast would stop her. One time he growled so loudly that the forest marvelled at his tenacity.

He had come taking me back, and after that, whenever she would stroll, the beast would see her with mistrustful eyes and a somewhat worried expression, that she would go to her beginning, most of she would stay in the stump trying to make a new home for herself .

The beast would come to gain attention from her, making her rubbed his pointed ears, rolling over his back, and then at those times she would get so irritated that she would hold him over his head by her long brown arms forcefully rubbing her face with him.

She had nearly completed her new home, even though she missed her own kind. She heard sometimes their singing, and she would allow herself the illusion of what the mortals had taken from her.

In the night when she feels that her beast is cold she makes the grass, shelter him from it, hearing him sigh contently. 

She would feel at that sight a certain warmth, making her momently forget the sorrow of her kind.

He made her home; it was not like her, her roots were getting weaker day by day. The little home she made for herself wither just like that, her body grew weaker. She would lay there in her new home and she would praise him.

Was it not the ideal place to live or die just by the young lake and her new home besides her, the scent of the forest would calm her, sometimes she would wake up only to find the vines and grass entangling her.

And her beast would bring his hunt for her, licked her face in affection, and looked at her with those sad green orbs whose shine in the sunlight.

It was just like any other day; she was so covered, in her home the vines, the grass had wrapped around her small body; she knew her time was near, the only part that was yet to cover her was her eyes.

She took her opportunity to absorb the place that had sheltered her, and when her mighty beast was laying near her, playing in her feet, she senses the mortal hiding his disgusting odour. And she saw the saw weapon used to kill her kind in its hands and her soul burned with fury.

She knew that was inside her, her beast feeling her came towards her, asking with his eyes what had made her enrage, with that she had decided using the last of her strength . 

She used her branch, and before even the mortal could know she had impaled it in its heart. Then his legs and then the forehead.

Her beast did the next, dragging the mortal blood spilling on their sacred land, he shattered the mortal. She felt relieved and faint, but she had to do something first.

She used her life force some from her companions of the forest as she moved the grass and vines denying the mortals any entry towards her home or her saviour. She heated the sad painful moans of her savior as she turned into dust, leaving nothing but her small flowers and thorns.

__"sadly enough the most painful goodbyes are the one that are unsaid and never explained."

(Jonathan Harnisch)