She liked to sit by the mountain river, in the dark, cool shade, upon the ancient, grey rocks where the emerald green mosses grew.
She liked the cold and clear rushing waters, the cool stones, and running her fingers through the lush mosses, more than she loved you.
The edge of spring, the sunlight growing strong and cruel again, she would retreat into the darkness of the forest river.
She hold herself, arms wrapped tightly around her chest, and would wander in her mind away from; she was no forgiver.
The waters crashed and ran all the way to the sea, and the mosses were stranger and more ancient then men.
Breaking her self embrace, she ran her fingers over the verdant mosses, and lost her thoughts in the river’s din
She could slip into the river, be washed away, and never be found, only a ghost in the water, undisturbed forevermore.
She could walk into those dark copses, the endless shadows of the long mountains, one every nymph and sprite would adore.
The legends and tales would grow, of why she never came back from the shaded river and the moss covered rocks.
She was carried away, she ran into the forest, she is ancient and unamed as the moss, finding none of her fin silken locks.
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faithlesspaladin 