– Thorn in the Glade –
He wanders deep into the undergrowth, into the cloister of the Dryad, seeking shelter from the burning heat of the sun at zenith above him. All are welcome in the shelter of her, and she patiently awaits those who may come to seek her gift.
She emerges from the brush, skin green as the summer grass, with blooming laurels tied up in her braided hair. She reaches out to him with her gentle branches, and without hesitation, he gives himself up to her embrace.
She takes hold of his body and soul, takes the essence of him into her own, absorbing him like the sweet waters of the first spring rain. And when it is finished, he leaves the shelter of the undergrowth as silently as he came, a single blossom clutched tightly in his hand, blood flowing freely from between his paling fingers.
She is the garden of life to bring renewal for those who have lost their way. Yet for every gift of life, an equal exchange must be made, the balance of her gifts must be maintained. For every flower cut and taken, there is always a thorn in the glade.
