Once upon a time, in a far, long forgotten country,
There lived a girl who was radiant, cheerful and elegant.
Her name was lost, forgotten as time went by.
And her legend was recounted in every language in existence, even the ones that disappeared.

She's known to be one of a rare beauty,
Her expression had something supernatural in it.
It is said that time stopped when she was seen,
That the trees bowed down before her,
That the wildlife sang a symphony that no one ever heard before,
And that the river stopped flowing
So nothing could disturb the calmness that took place around her.

The legend says that she never talked,
That her breath didn't make any sound,
That her steps were so light that the branches didn't break,
The grass didn't move, the puddles' quietness wasn't disturbed.
We can even ask ourselves if she was even walking,
Maybe not.
Maybe she was just carried by the wind.

The wind.
The wind that skimmed her hair
And her unimaginably perfect face.
The wind that froze around her,
Even during the warmer days of summer.
The wind that was a sign of her coming,
The wind that enchanted the travelers,
Scared the hunters, captivated the fallen lovers…
The wind that skimmed her hair,
Her pitch black or bright white hair,
Depending on what book you read.
The wind that caressed the top of the trees.
The wind that breathed life into this unknown forest.
The wind that she embodied.

The few writings remaining about her say that she was scantily dressed.
During the Winter or Spring.
During the Summer or Autumn.
She didn't seem to be cold, or hot.
She slept among the trees,
In this dense and vast forest,
Using the trees' bark to disappear from anyone's sight
For a night, a week, a year or five millennia.
Forgotten by everyone, she was given a new name.

Everytime she comes back, she sighs.
She sighs at the sight of a World that changed,
Turned into a ruin by Humanity's madness.
Her forest – That she'll never leave – is suffering,
So she sighs.
She sighs and the wind picks up.
The trees' top is moving again,
The wildlife wakes up from its sleep,
Rivers start flowing again
And cover up that graveyard of dead plants, slaughtered by mankind's perversion.
The lost travelers find their way back home,
The blood thirsty hunters flee the woods.
The fallen lovers, deprived of their loved ones, are smiling again,
The Artists write poems or paint on the trees to praise the goddess.
Musicians sing to her,
As she watches all of this happening,
Not saying anything.
She watches as life is starting again,
As death vanishes away,
As the World's lungs are filling up with air again.

It is said that her voice shall be heard once in a lifetime,
At the exact moment her last breath will exit her lungs.
Then her name shall be revealed, by no other than the goddess herself.

Once upon a time, in a far, long forgotten country, there lived The One From The Woods.