Hear Us Sing.

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!

Forcing herself to her feet, she darted through trees at speeds of which human eyes would not possibly comprehend, cries of her friend echoing off the trees behind her. Melia’s tree was not too far off from Daiyn’s, a large oak of which branches spread through the tree line in ancient testimony of her age. Sun was blotted out by dark, angry stricken clouds, thunder drumming a song to each flash of lightning. Melia halted as soon as she marked the arrival of her tree, her eyes seeing but not understanding.

An arrow had embedded itself within the trunk of her tree (for a dryad, her tree was the personification of her soul; to strike it with animosity bore ill will for the bearer of such a weapon), its tip completely hidden as the wind carried out the tree’s pain. Anger became Melia, face transforming from maiden to monster. Her teeth elongated to small, dagger-like points, the bone structure in her face sharpening in a more pronounced manner as skin stretched thin over her cheekbones. Her eyes darkened to ink black, fingers bearing the form of talons. Her scream was chilling, high pitched and wailing as the sky began to weep. Daiyn was by her side within a moment, fingers threading through Melia’s in an attempt to calm her. As quick as it had occurred, Melia’s anger fled. The storm dissipated and the sun spilled light upon the forest once more. Tears trailed Melia’s face as Daiyn pulled her towards her tree. “You must remove it, for I cannot,” Daiyn said.

A squirrel scurried up to higher perch, chattering and watching as Melia pried the arrow from its burrow, rage flaring for a moment as she stared at it. The force of which she gripped the arrow caused the wood to splinter and split in half as she turned back to Daiyn. “Something is not right. I smell human; he means to steal what is not his. We must do something.”

“The forest has always cared for itself. We are merely here to nurture it, to help it grow. To soil it when it is not our place will suffer great consequences, dear sister.” Daiyn cupped Melia’s face, sadness clinging to her expression as she turned back towards her own tree; a glorious willow that stood even taller above Melia’s. “The balance shan’t be tipped.”

Silence carried a heavy weight through the forest that coming morn. Melia rested against her tree, a quiet hum echoing from her lips to the air surrounding her. A herd of solemn deer grazed nearby, ears flickering to and fro. Daiyn’s song could be heard alongside the whispered wind, her voice carrying quietly throughout the forest. Tiny droplets of water gleamed against their earthy home. Melia looked up, letting some fall against her skin as peace became her. Daiyn’s silence brought Melia to open her eyes, but the still air did not remain so for long, a piercing scream shattering the calm and urging Melia to scramble to her feet. The deer darted away—ears flat against their skull in their distress. Birds chattered and took flight, disappearing into the sky above. Danger clung to every tree; the world seemed to shift into darkening rage. The wind picked up, whistling and bending trees as Melia bolted towards Daiyn’s tree, eyes lit with concern. Peace was rare to break to chaos in the forest, but not unheard of. For thousands of years their forest and its inhabitants had survived, but the world was ever changing.

Melia found Daiyn within the ring of toadstools, hair disarray, eyes wild. Rain fell as Melia knelt next to her, threading her sister’s fingers through her own. “What happened?” she asked, her eyes taking in the surrounding meadow.

“Human.” A single word was uttered, but a single word was all that Melia required before she was pulling Daiyn to her feet.

“Did he harm you?”

“It was his intention to ‘free me from this wretched place.’”

“Free you?”

Daiyn’s eyes turned from Melia’s towards the sky, which continued to pour, rain cascading down the faerie’s face. “Humans have always thought they held possession over the land. They are lustful in their greed and determined in their desires. I do not know what intentions the human spoke of, but it was nothing good. He wanted to take me away.”

“I do not want to speak of such sorrowful things anymore,” Melia cried, tugging on her sister’s grasp. “Come, let us sing and rejoice, for the human is gone now. Our forest will keep us safe.” Daiyn’s eyes were trained beyond the trees, but she nodded, following Melia to the nearby meadow.

The forest thrived that night.

When Melia next woke, the forest was thick with the very nature of trepidation, one of which was ignored, despite the feeling causing Melia’s skin to prickle and her song to prove mournful rather than uplifting. She distracted herself by braiding the hair of a young dryad, weaving flowers amongst the fair tresses as her voice carried a quiet song through the chilly air. Melia could spy no animals through the thick underbrush, no birds nesting in the tops of the trees—an unusual occurrence of which only further sparked her anxiety. Something was wrong.

Dark, angry stricken clouds began to form overhead, just like the previous day, a stark contrast compared to the sunny morning. Lightning cracked across the sky, thundering its music as it echoed across the forest. Melia’s face darted closer to the younger fae, pressing a quick kiss atop her head before sending her along. “Stay close to home today little one. There is something amiss.”

Her feet carried her to Daiyn, but the root of the problem presented itself as she arrived at her tree, rearing its great ugly head as Melia’s eyes fell upon the meadow of which Daiyn’s willow tree nestled root.

Or perhaps, where her tree had once been.

The ancient tree had been standing strong and tall just hours previously, serving as the oldest living creature in a forest that stood for nearly a thousand years. It was no more. The human stood before the fallen willow tree—his identity sheathed beneath a thick cloak of green. Silver gleamed against streams of sunlight, an ax lay to rest at his side, and his chest heaved as he stared upon the fallen tree. Daiyn was nowhere to be seen, but a single luminescent blue flower grew from the middle of the ring of toadstools made just days before. The marigolds that had donned her hair now sprouted from the ground, as if to protect the blue flower in the middle.

Understanding dawned upon Melia as the first rain began to drop; her screech was nearly lost with the wind as her face transformed from maiden to monster once more. Her fingers were quick to tighten and clamp around the hunter's throat, and lightning struck in the air above as her face drew close to his, expression unnaturally calm. “You shan’t take from the forest; what claim do you have over us? You will pay for your crimes with your life.”

The hunter spat in Melia’s face, ax moving in defense, which was intercepted by Melia, whose free fingers clamped down on the hunter’s wrist. She forced the weapon from his grasp.

“I was to free her from this wretched land, make her my bride! Our children would have made the fairest in all the land. She would not leave her precious tree, so I did what was necessary. How was I to know she would die?” Melia’s fingers tightened around the hunter’s throat once more in the event of her anger, the sound of his labored breath song to her ears.

To soil it when it is not our place will suffer great consequences, dear sister. Daiyn’s words echoed across the forefront of Melia’s mind, a warning from the recent past, but Melia was blind by her anger and grief, the loss of her fellow sister fueling the curl of her fingers as she choked the very life from the hunter. He did not struggle for very long, fingers clawing at her own as face turned ugly shades of colors before he went limp.

The balance shan’t be tipped. The Gods will look after us, punish those who mean us harm. We mustn’t do the task of another. These words hadn’t been uttered before, but Melia knew the consequences of her actions would be severe as soon as she released her hold on the hunter, his body slumping to the ground, head resting against the stump of the willow tree. Wind whistled, bending trees as the dryads hid in their homes. Melia could see their eyes glowing against the darkness as they stared at her murder in horror and rage, lips pulled back over their teeth in snarls.

“What have you done?” She heard one whisper, but she ignored it.

Her fingers closed around the seed of her tree where it rested against her breast, her feet carrying her over to the blue flower that grew inside the ring of toadstools. Legend stated that the dryad bloomed into a beautiful flower for but one night before returning to the dirt after their tree perished. Something did not bode well for Daiyn, however. Something was not right. As Melia’s tears fell, as the sky came down in sheets around her, Daiyn’s flower began to wither and die. The soil blackened, tendrils of dead soil slithering across the ground. Melia stumbled back, her eyes wide and tinged with unshed tears as a rot manifest from the ring of toadstools, claiming first Daiyn’s flower before then spreading to the rest of the forest. Melia stumbled away, her heartbeat a rapid patter against her chest as she watched dryads and their beloved homes get consumed by the rot. Guilt was not an emotion known to the fae; they did not understand anything but the purest form of anger, fear, happiness. Melia felt terrified as the forest died. Even the animals found themselves being consumed by the rot, and Melia couldn’t bear to watch as it claimed them. She ran, the shrill screams of her sisters filling the air in mournful song as Melia tripped on root and fell. She forced herself to feet, and twice more she fell before she burst through the border of forest, where somehow she knew she would be safe.

A great and terrible pain finally brought to her knees, setting her soul on fire as she felt her own tree get consumed by the rot. Her fingers remained clamped to her seed, and perhaps that’s what kept her alive as she felt a part of her soul die with her home. Tears stained her face as she pulled the necklace over her head, turning the seed over in her palm before gripping it in her fist and forcing herself to her feet. She felt the need to sleep and never wake, but she fought it as she scampered uphill through the mud and the rain.

She had never witnessed the open land—her people were unable to leave their forest, to tread upon ground of which their trees did not grow. They were not meant to leave their home, for it was not their task to wander, but to grow. And as Melia turned once reaching the top of the hill, she realized that it was still her purpose to do so. As she looked upon her cherished forest, she openly sobbed at the blackened dead skeleton of which remained, fists shaking in anger as she then looked upon the village that resided just beside it to the west. Her vow to hunt the villagers until they were no more was short lived however, for the Gods had plans to punish the humans as they had punished the fae.

Lightning cracked across the sky, bolts darting in descent as they embraced the ground. Fire ruptured along the buildings of the village, and even from here Melia could hear the screams of the villagers as they scrambled to save their own home from the flames. More lightning struck the ground as Melia turned away, palm opening to reveal the acorn that would be the savior of her people.

This time she would take it far away from the grasp of humanity, plant it where no human could hurt her and her sisters ever again. It would take a long time for the forest to regrow from but one seed, longer still for the dryads to return with their song and the magic touch of life, but she couldn’t allow herself to despair.

She had a task to fulfill.

_________

* Note: This piece is based loosely off the song “Willow Maid” by Erutan. If you haven’t heard that song yet, it’s lovely and I highly recommend it! If you enjoyed my piece and feel so inclined, I’d greatly appreciate shares, hearts, and tips. I have several other pieces on my page that might interest you, as well. Thank you so much and I hope you enjoyed yourself. :)