Height: 2'6"
Weight 22 lbs
Eyes of Deep Cool Shade
Hair of Sun on Grass
Age of Sixty Seasons of New Growth

With her small shallow breasts pressed into the sun-warmed rock, and her brown bony back and buttocks bare to the sky, Tree lay flat next to a pool that found refuge in a quiet offshoot of a burbling stream.  With two hands she scooped more algae from the water to rub into the shorn stubble of her newly mown hair. Nearby, lay the harvest of her head, locks that showed their original golden grain color beneath months of previous algae treatments.

"Keyno ee tyeh," she complained, waving her hands to urge the ripples to stillness so she might more aptly gauge the color.  But water is in no hurry.

Nearby, next to the small pile of shorn hair her equipment waited to cover her nakedness.  The bits of protective leather.  The pack with its basic comforts.  The cloth for which she had traded so that she might dress her body.  The Pointed Stick.  And atop the pile, the helm of the Imaginary Ears.

The pile would have long to wait.  The sun smiled, the day was warm, and the stream laughed merrily nearby.  Today was not a day for the affairs of people.  Today was a day for Tree.