People came without warning. Their Loud machines were drowning out the murmur of the stream and the whisper of the wind. Most of the forest spirits left, taking the wild beasts with them. The rodents left, than the birds; but she had to stay. They are one, she and her tree. She is a Hamadryad. A whisper in the air like the wings of butterflies; but it is only the wind which plays with the dry, dead leaves of the cut trees. The air smells foul. Her tree is dying, but they are one, she and the tree. Pain drags her down. She is lying on the ground. She tries to hold on to consciousness, fighting the blackness which is creeping in on the corner of her eyes. She tries to move, but cannot even lift a finger. Agony rips through her body, and tries to take her down into the darkness where is neither, pain nor memories. A murmur in the air like the wings of moth; but it is only the wind.
She hears a tiny whimper, the seed in her hand, life inside. Her hand opens, the wee life falls to the ground. Small roots are straining to reach mother earth. The ghost of a smile waves over her face. Perhaps her child will be allowed to live and grow. The darkness creeps all around now, a black abyss, no more pain.


Dryads are nature deities from Greek mythology. Originally they are the nymphs of Oak trees; but the name is commonly used for all tree nymphs. They are depicted as very shy. They are supernaturally long lived but some of them, the Hamadryads are part of their trees and will die if the tree dies. For this reason the Greek would propitiating with the Dryads before falling a tree, because they believed that otherwise mortals who harmed would be punished by the gods, especially by Artemis, friend of the tree nymphs.