One ┉ Zenia

                                    

                                          


                          
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          Somehow, I remember the exact moment I came to be. I was alone, but perhaps that's par for the course. Ever since the moment I first opened my golden eyes in the shadow of my tree, I've been alone. I didn't need anyone else, as far as I was concerned. I had myself, and I had my tree. Animals would pass through the grove, whispering secrets to me once I was old enough to understand, secrets of a world far outside my haven, Lanilow Grove. Named by me, of course. 

                          
          Centuries have passed since the day I awoke, the branches of my tree now stretched high above the tops of any neighboring trees. I was content; I was happy. My life was a bliss composed of taking care of the offspring of my tree, the offspring of those trees, and so on. If not caring for a tree, I would sit surrounded by wandering animals: deer and birds and foxes and even wolves. My meadow meant safety; every animal knew it. Though I never wanted anything in return, they would whisper to me, soft voices that very few how to listen for.
                          
          Birds would speak of the expanses of the sky that they've flown, granting me peeks of civilizations that I had no desire to seek out for my own. My place was in Lanilow Grove, nestled into the branches of my tree, and I accepted that within days of my birth. Wolves would happily ramble about their runs, the places they play, their pups. Fierce predators they were, yet each one would sprawl across my lap with their tongue lolling out of their open mouths as I wove my fingers through their dense fur. Deer never lingered long, always seeming to fear the chance that a human hunter would wander far past their usual hunting grounds to target them or their young. I understood, promising the option of safety for them each time they departed. Deer had always been secretive of their knowledge, yet it was through them that I learned of the different plants of my world, plants that I realized I could sprout and grow at a whim. Foxes would be the most playful of my visitors, their voices no longer a whisper as they begged for me to chase them around my clearing. From them, I learned my joy, and that is something I can never thank them for. Without joy, I would have not been so content with my seemingly endless life.
                          
          My spirit, my very being is tied to the proud oak tree in the center of Lanilow Grove. I knew this the moment I first faded into life at the base of the tree and saw its branches idly waving above me. If my tree were to die, I would surely fade but moments after, and that was fine with me. I was but another of the things my tree has raised, and I would not want to persist in a life where I could not lounge in the tall grass and blooms of the clearing it resided in and admire the way its limbs cut deeply into the sky. The day that became impossible would be the day that I left this life as peacefully as I entered.
                          


                          
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          It was not often that my forest went still, especially not near my clearing. Yet, one afternoon, the afternoon that would change how I viewed everything, an eerie silence overtook the air. Dread bubbled in my stomach as my golden eyes danced around; this was the silence that signaled a hunter, a stillness that I only knew from tales that the deer would seldom whisper. Humans did not venture this far, and I hoped this would not be a tiding of worse to come. My coverings swished about my legs as I scurried backward, melting back beneath the bark of my tree.
                          
          When joined, it's as though each leaf on my tree is an eye for me to use. From inside, it's all too easy to see the elder man approaching my Grove. No ax is visible on his person, yet the birds have whispered to me of the nearest settlement, a village with a considerable percentage of lumberjacks. The man is dressed in plaid just as they warned, even though he bore no weapon that I could tell. That mattered not, as far as I was concerned. The stranger could pose a threat, armed or not. Even a mere slip of the tongue could end my tree, and that would not be tolerated. It wasn't even a possibility. 
                          
          I only allowed myself enough time to gauge the man's arrival before emerging back to the clearing. Animals have described men as foolish, fickle creatures, the males especially. Birds had spoken of males tripping over themselves and others to even sniff at a chance of impressing a woman they deemed worthy of their attention, even if she didn't desire it. I positioned myself at the base of my tree, my legs curled up to my chest as my hair draped around me like curtains, giving the appearance of a demure lady although my muscles remained tense. A pretty face surely would distract him, yet if I sensed any chance he would harm anything within my grove... It would be the lumberjack's last action, and he would not live long to rue the very moment he decided to harm. 
                          
          At last, my golden gaze was able to fixate on his form, and I tensed further. He was not as old as he appeared from above, yet time was beginning the delicate process of taking him into its embrace. Snow and silver wove through his hair and beard, and his tanned skin had long since started to crease. He stood tall, taller than I, his age not curling his spine nor turning his gait into a measly shuffle. As he broke through the treeline, I could tell the exact moment he spotted me, the exact second his brown eyes met my glowing orange.
                          
          A startled gasp escaped the man as he stumbled a few steps backward. My head cocked to the side in mild confusion, keeping my unblinking gaze locked on his figure. Curiously enough, the elder seemed petrified, which simply wouldn't do. Before he could turn-tail and run, like he seemed keen to do, I calmly extended a hand. At my gesture, thick roots rose from the ground behind him, ready to seize him at a moment's notice. Sighing to myself, I rose to my feet and approached.
                          
          "Who are you?" My voice was soft, delicate even, as I circled him. When he didn't immediately answer, it morphed into a hiss. "Why have you come?"
                          
          "I... I am Cain," The man spoke finally, causing me to pause in front of him. He eyed me warily, his voice gravel as he did. "Who... are you?"
                          
          "My name is Zenia," I answer steadily, my tone melting back to warm honey, "and I would like to know why you are here."