WILLOW AND ASH

Willow watched each day as the other nymphs and spirits of the forest passed by her stump and crossed the bridge over the water. They all looked so happy when they got to the other side. The birds chirped, the wind whistled, and the water spirits clapped as the others would race and run over the top of the stones.

Willow was a tree spirit. She was an immovable force—literally. All her life, all she had known was the five-foot radius around the base of her tree. And she was so tired of it. She gazed wistfully at the opposite bank of the river, wishing with all her heart it was her whooping with joy at the end of the bridge.

Why did she have to be a tree? Why couldn’t she have been a water nymph? Or a frog? It was so lonely. The only other tree that was anywhere near her was almost a mile away down the river. And he was ancient. She’d tried to shout once, to start a conversation, but his hearing had gone many, many years ago. The other spirits were always moving too fast to talk. She was destined to never have a friend, fated to be alone forever.

Willow sat with her back against her trunk, moping, when she heard a small sigh from behind her. She turned around to look for the sound and saw the tiniest little sapling directly behind her trunk. Willow drew back in surprise.

“Hello?” Willow said.

The sound came again. Willow got up cautiously and walked over to the sapling. Behind the slender trunk of the baby tree, there was a small spirit curled into a ball. She was sucking on a branch from her tree.

“Oh!” Willow said. She quickly sat down across from the new tree, never taking her eyes off of the spirit all the while. She sat for one hour, then two, then three, watching.

The moon came and went and still Willow watched, enamored with each breath from the new spirit like it was as valuable as a block of gold.

Finally, at the end of the third day, when Willow was drifting into an unwelcome slumber, she heard a gasp. Willow quickly scrambled to the side of the sapling.

The spirit opened her eyes slowly and looked around, unfocused, until her gaze landed on Willow.

“Hello,” Willow said.

“Hello,” said the new spirit. “Where am I?”

"You’re in the Whispering Grotto. This is your tree,” Willow gestured to the sapling, “And that one is my tree.”

“Your tree is very close.”

“Yes,” Willow took a deep, nervous breath, “it is.”

The sapling looked around again and then back to Willow. “I’m glad your tree is so close to mine. You seem very nice.”

Willow smiled.

“I’m Ash,” said the sapling.

“I’m Willow,” said Willow.

And so, Willow had a friend.