The first time I saw her, she was throwing her slender arms around a weeping willow tree, a dryad in her forest kingdom. Auburn strands of silky hair coiled about her head. I took a step, and she was gone.
The second time, she saw me, too. We stood, gazing at each other, her dark eyes brimming with curiosity. Her hair was no longer copper, coal-black in its profusion, pouring in torrents down to her waist. A smile began to grow, dimpling the corners of her milk-white lips, warming her face ‘til it felt like spring had defied winter at last.