It won’t look at you. Don’t be offended, it doesn’t look at anyone. It’s as if, perhaps, it can’t.

It sees the trees and the flowers and the birds and the clouds in the sky, but even if you stand yourself in front of it, its sharp eyes seem to look right through you, as if you’re not there at all. If it moves into you, it continues as if you were a tree or stone, not a thing of flesh and blood.

It has no such issues with animals, though, and will often aid the injured or guide the lost. Many a spring has seen a fallen chick snuggled into the leaves on its back, or tiny pink mice feeding on nectar from its crests.

This little tree spirit seems unable to connect with the world of human-folk.

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