As you are standing there trying to force your blank mind to make some kind of choice, a woman appears standing on your left. Startled, you jump a bit, but she puts a calming hand on your shoulder and whispers, "Be still, I mean no harm."
Her words calm your pounding heart, allowing you to pause and look at her more closely. She is nearly the same height as you are and her skin is a dark mahogany; the exact color of finely made wood furniture a century old. Her hair is long, trailing down her back in soft tresses that shimmer in the morning breeze. With a shock, you realize it is not "hair" at all. From the widow's peak on her forehead to where the longest strands hide her hips, are extremely fine tree branches like those on a Willow, each adorned with hundreds upon hundreds of downy-soft leaves. The elegant deep green dress she wears is woven from those same leafy branches. Her shoulders are bare, her waist narrow, her breasts full, and she wears neither shoes nor any kind of jewelry.
"Who are you?"
"I am Waonahele of the Willows." She gestures to the many willow trees lining the river bank. "This is my place. How did you come to be here?"
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