Yet with each passing year, as the moon draws the ocean, the woods beckoned her more strongly to make her home in the sheltering shade.
"Come see," whispered the poplars in the wind. "Hurry, hurry," said the evergreens. Sometimes she felt as though her spirit would leak through her skin, so great was the longing to be where she knew she belonged.
But she would be patient, knowing all that was meant for her would come in it's own due time.
In the meantime, she could go there as often as time and transportation permitted, drinking in the healing peace of the air, fragrant with the scent of living things.