Dryads are those small spirits that live in the woods and wild places. they can manifest in forms not unlike humans, and they have been known to en-trance a person or two. Though not as common as they once were (thanks to our removing most of their tree homes, and selves) there are still a few places left where they might be found. Or so it is rumored! There is a man who claims to keep a dryad with him, if you believe that sort of thing. Silly though, for they die when their tree is cut down. Or do they?

The wind abated slightly as the stranger settled in near the fire, not too close, but near enough for warmth. Gently, he parted a heavy coat and lifted a cord, dark with dust and time, form about his neck. There on the cord hung a lifeless bit of wood, a small forked branch, with broken tips, bereft of all its bark, polished smooth by years of gentle hands caressing the dark grain.
"Too long" he spoke to no one in particular "too long for much hope, but I will keep looking." He caressed the branch and spoke to it now " So many machines, Houses, how can I hope to find anyplace suitable? " He set the small branch against his carry pack on the table reverently. "I sometimes wish I had never seen that wood, acted as I did. Why could I have not gone elsewhere that day, was it fate? was it YOU!? Casting spells upon me before I had even met you?" (he almost cursed the wooden form now, ) "Ah, but love you I do, and though I know time passes making my task more urgent, I must risk your fate yet again. I have little knowledge of where I might find suitable trees, you must awake, if you are able, and guide me yet again." Slowly, with a movement almost at the edge of perception, the small branch shifted, then it moved, a bit more, turned itself a bit, and toppled, pointing a stubby bit of branch off to the west. "very well, West it is my love, " he wispered to the small brown branch as he picked it up, "Rest now, soon we will find you a suitable home and I will yet feel you in my arms again!" His eyes grew wide and bright reflecting the firelight, or was it something else burning therein. He tied the branch back on his neck cord and gently replaced it, buttoning his coat against the winds, he left the small shelter, and headed West, seeking their future.

Surely some crazy man, I reassured myself as he left the small inn. I paused in the doorway, noticing for perhaps the first time, the warm grain of the wood beneath my hand. I thought, for a moment, it felt like it was ... no, I must be imagining it! I pulled my hand away as if burned, and picked up my axe.

I think there was an animated movie with those dryad things in it. I can't remember what it was, but the Acid Rain charachter scared the **** out of me. LOL