I was just eighteen that day so long ago when I saw her. I was wild, in my own way. A loner, never fitting in with the crowd at school, as far back as I could remember. Grade school had been boring to me. The things the others had to struggle to grasp came easily to me. Every teacher told my mother the same thing; I could be at the head of my class, if I would only apply myself. But there were no double promotions in that school system back then; I was going to be there for the whole twelve years of school, so why bust my butt? I did the work that would get me by each year, and spent the rest of my time enjoying myself. My parents had divorced when I was a baby, and both remarried, my father before my mother. I stayed with her parents, my grandma and grandpa, until she remarried. Since they lived in an outlying area, there were no other children my age around, except at school. So my loner streak started early.
By the time I was eighteen in 1965, I was almost always by myself. I had one or two friends in the neighborhood where I now lived with my mother and stepfather, but I still didn't really fit in with the crowd. I was tall and thin no matter how hard I tried to build muscles like the jocks in my school. To get anywhere with girls you needed to be a jock or have a real nice car, and all I was able to afford was an old clunker. That, and the fact that even at eighteen I still looked like a fourteen-year-old kept me from getting anywhere with the girls. In 1959 my folks bought the place in the Ozarks. There were hundreds of acres of woods to roam; our own 80 acres as well as other people's land. So I wandered the woods whenever my folks would take me to our place. The quiet solitude was my companion; I carried my .22 rifle for "protection" and because I could say I was "hunting". My stepfather loved to fish, so he was unable to understand why I would prefer to walk all day in the woods instead of wading a stream trying to catch fish. My mother would try to figure me out, but I think I was too much for her to comprehend, too intense in my passions. So there I was once again, alone in the woods, listening to the sounds around me, the birds, the squirrels, the wind through the trees.
Then it got quiet. The animal sounds stopped. The wind died to a whisper. I stopped and looked around, wondering. I studied the sky, wondering if I had missed the approach of a storm. It was easy to do, with the great trees obscuring my view. But the visible sky was cloudless and brilliant blue. Then as I lowered my gaze, I saw her. She appeared out of nowhere, a vision of beauty such as my young mind had never dreamed of. Slender yet with full breasts and womanly hips, she couldn't have been over 5 foot 3, couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds, clothed in a soft pale green gossamer dress that seemed to hide her body and show it completely at the same time. Her hair was the red color of hard maple leaves in the fall; fiery red-orange, almost blinding in its shining brilliance. There were even a few leaves caught in the tangled mass of curls that cascaded down past her shoulders. Eyes the green of grassy pools in the streams that ran through the woods after a rain. Those eyes stared right into the depths of my very soul. High cheekbones, full red lips, small delicate hands and bare feet. She stood there, seemingly swaying in the slight breeze, a knowing smile on her lips as she watched me. I could only stand there, hypnotized by her beauty.
"Hello, boy," she said. " Do you know who I am?" I tried to speak, but my voice wouldn't work. All I could do was shake my head. "My name is Aceria and I am a wood-nymph. You might call me a Dryad, but that is not correct. Dryads are oak spirits, very solemn and withdrawn I am a Sphendamniad, a maple spirit. We are a lot more fun-loving." She smiled wider, and it was as if the sun shone full on my face. I could only stand there frozen, transfixed. Tree spirit, wood-nymph, these things were legends; they didn't really exist....but what else could explain the beautiful vision before me, and the way she had appeared? "This is my friend," she said with that same smile. With those words, a huge wolf stepped into view from behind her.
My heart stopped for an instant as the beast stared at me, head lowered, mouth open, tongue lolling out. I gripped my rifle tighter, knowing how useless it would be against this brute. Aceria nodded toward my rifle. "You won't need that, he won't hurt you," she said, "I won't allow that. Why don't you put it down? My friend would accept you then." I knew I had no choice, so I carefully laid the rifle down, then stepped slowly to the side, away from it, showing my empty hands. I watched as the wolf left her side and approached me. He stopped and sniffed my hand, then slid his muzzle into it. I looked down in disbelief at the huge beast acting just like a dog in his display of acceptance, showing me he wanted attention. So I stood there scratching his head, bemused, admiring the powerful animal.
Aceria laughed softly and said, "See there.... he likes you, because I like you." The huge wolf still stood in front of me, my hand petting his head and neck. But, a wolf here in Missouri? I had never heard of such a thing. He wasn't supposed to be here. I tried, and found my voice.
"There aren't any wolves in Missouri," I said. "How did he get here?"
"I brought him. He is my friend, and so much more," she replied.
"More...did he used to be a man, did you change him?" My mind was ready to accept any explanation now. After all, I was talking to a tree nymph and petting a giant wolf.
She laughed that easy laugh again, a sound like water cascading softly over rocks in a woodland stream, a musical, almost tinkling sound. "No, he has always been a wolf. I cannot change people into animals, or animals into people. But I can call him to me, bring him to where ever I may be, no matter the distance."
"But I feel like you've done something to me," I said. " I feel like I'm under a spell, or something."
Again the soft tinkling laugh. "That may be, boy. Do you not find me attractive?" She turned around slowly, hands away from her sides, palms up, pivoting to display herself to me. When she faced me again, she stopped, and swayed gently as before.
"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." I could feel my face grow hot, and knew I was blushing furiously at my own words. But I knew them to be true. I didn't have much experience with women beyond the pages of men's magazines, but she was more lovely than any Playboy model. She could make a fortune modeling if she wanted to.
