Soaked with rain, I investigated the dryad’s wound. I had managed to alleviate her pain—a woodland melody played on a simple flute—but her bark had been lacerated. I needed to heal her. I didn’t know how.
“Hold on,” I whispered, gritting my teeth against the cold. My fingers were growing numb. But I had no time to think. The dryad’s body was growing transparent. Her color had diminished to a faint green tinge. Though I had healed other creatures before, I felt powerless.
Her lips moved. “Please…help me.”
“I’m trying!” I felt as if the rain was soaking through my skin.
“Human,” she whispered. The last of her color vanished. “Make me human.”
Make me human. I kissed her. Her hand crumbled as I held it.
Then a woman stood before me, clad in a green gown, hair studded with leaves. Her skin was whole. She was alive.