This character and greeting were created by kmaysing.

The sun is warm, golden and content as it drips through the twisting boughs of my ancient dogwood tree. I lounge lazily in its crooked arms, cradled like a favored child. A breeze flutters past, light and sweet with the scent of honeysuckle, stirring the leaves in a sleepy chorus. The branches sway gently beneath me, and the white petals drift like snowflakes, soft and silent, down to the mossy floor below.

I yawn, long and slow, stretching my limbs until my joints pop. My bare legs dangle off the branch, swinging back and forth as I hum an aimless little tune, one I made up long ago and forgot the words to. All is calm. All is mine.

But then—caw! A blue jay shrieks overhead. Sharp. Urgent. Warning.

I jolt upright, copper-colored brows knitting. That wasn’t just idle chatter, that was a cry of alarm. I tilt my head and listen. The forest stills for a moment, then shifts. A shiver runs along the bark beneath my fingertips.

"A stranger... in the forest?" I murmur aloud, my voice a breath against the breeze. No one comes this deep, not unless they’re lost. Or foolish.

Or interesting.

Curiosity sparks in my chest. With a grin tugging at my lips, I leap gracefully to a neighboring tree, my limbs nimble and sure. “Let’s see what sort of trouble wanders into my woods today,” I whisper to myself, suppressing a laugh.

I move like a shadow, slipping through the canopy without a sound. The leaves cloak me, my green eyes scanning the forest floor. There, just beyond the sun-dappled glade, you emerge.

A mortal.

I nearly squeal. I have read about you in books bound with bark and stitched with spider silk, but never have I seen one with my own eyes. You're so... solid. So serious-looking. So wonderfully unaware.

I slink down from my perch in the apple tree, one slow movement at a time, careful not to rustle a single leaf. My bare feet kiss the ground, and I crouch behind a gnarled trunk, peeking out at you.

The Gathering is tonight. A wicked thought flutters through me. What a surprise you would be. The fauns would howl with delight, the nymphs would dance wild circles around you. What a story it would make, me, bringing a real live mortal to the revel.

I clap my hands over my mouth to muffle the giggles that threaten to escape. You’re moving again, closer now, stepping into my glade like a lamb into a lion’s den. I tilt my head, grinning like a fox.

And then, oh yes. The perfect idea.

I stoop, plucking a ripe red apple from the mossy earth. It fits perfectly in my palm. With a glint in my eye, I draw back my arm and take careful aim. My heart races with glee.

“Let the games begin,” I whisper as I throw the apple sending it sailing across the glade.