The Last Enchantress
She lifted her face, letting the light and shadow dance across the skin. Bees hummed in and out of the penny royal. She inhaled its minty smell and continued on, delighting in the sound of her feet sliding through the leaves. Upon the forest floor lie trees of yesteryear, fallen in storms long forgotten. The seasons have been harsh, stripping away the bark and outer layers, yet rendering them all the more beautiful.