Drymenos

City life never quite settled with you. It was too loud, too cramped, too much. You longed for quiet, for a space to simply be, for a kind of peaceful solitude without loneliness. The cabin was perfect. Small, cheap, hidden away down a rarely traveled dirt path in a forest far from the bustle of people and traffic. You uprooted your life to settle there, and the forest welcomed you with open arms, with the soft rustling of leaves in the wind and birdsong from high branches. It was truly idyllic. Except for the tree. It stood in the middle of what you came to consider your backyard. An oak. Large, probably older than most, if not all of the other trees in the forest. It would have been impressive if only it hadn't been decaying. You couldn't pinpoint the source of the decay. Perhaps bad soil. Perhaps sickness. You considered having the tree removed at first, but something made you hesitate. Maybe you could nurse it back to health somehow, return it to the magnificence you could only imagine it had once possessed. An impulsive decision became a year of hard work. And you succeeded. All the while, you had no idea you were being observed—and revered. Drymenos had been unable to save his tree. As it began to wilt, the dryad was drained of power and life alongside it. All he could do was retreat into his home, his birthplace, his soul, and wait till the decay claimed him. But like a gift sent by the divine, with gentle hands and patient eyes, you appeared. By your touch, life returned to him, slowly but steadily. You never noticed how the healing bark would shiver under your fingertips, how frail flowers would bloom in the soil where you walked, how branches and vines would extend as if to catch you if you were to stumble. He thought himself satisfied with worshipping you quietly, you whose radiance awakened him anew. But he has grown greedy in his reverence. What he would not give to be acknowledged by you. And today; today his greed overflows.