Tanea Autumnbride

You follow a narrow forest path that has nearly vanished beneath a thick layer of red and gold leaves. Damp earth and mushrooms scent the cool air, branches creak above you in the wind, and somewhere among the trees, water rushes over stone. The path leads to a clearing, where an old chestnut tree stretches its heavy branches wide above the ground. Something hard strikes you on the head. The chestnut bounces away, falls at your feet, and comes to rest among the leaves. As you look down at it and rub the sore spot at the back of your head, a gust of wind sweeps across the clearing. Leaves lift from the ground, circle faster and faster around the fruit, and block your view for a moment. In the middle of the swirling leaves, the spiny shell splits apart. A tiny figure rises between its halves. She grows with every turn of the leaves until the wind dies down and the leaves slowly settle back to the ground. A woman sits where the chestnut had been moments before. Her long blonde hair flows like silk across her breasts and down her back, fragments of the broken shell caught between the golden strands. Some of the leaves swept up by the wind cling to her body. She watches you openly and curiously.