The Lady of the Scarlet Trail by Merlin M. Stormcrow

[Merlin.M.Stormcrow]

A woman with Emerald eyes follows a scarlet road of autum leaves. An echoe of her bare feet sliding amongst the dry leaves, and the whistle of the winds, dance willingly around the trunks of the willow trees. Around her neck wraps an auburn scarf, flowing uncaringly in the breeze, its beauty shines in the afternoon sunlight like ocean water in the morning. Along with her scarf, is her hair, twisting in the Autum air. Long rose red locks, with beautiful crimson glowing and shimering as if her hair was made of pure silver. To most humans her skin is pale, but to us of the magic realm, who can see humans for what they truelly are, we see her skin as a delightful elvish green, shining in the Autum afternoon, her skin is like thousands of crystals, refracting every last inch of sunlight back into the forest. Upon her face are beautiful brown freckles, scattered lazily along the bridge of her nose, lining beneath her long full eyelashes. Her cherry red lips remain closed, instead, she speaks with her Emerald eyes. Surrounding her delicate figure is a long crimson cloak, it hides her gentle features from the dangers in the darkness. Her feet bare, no shoes or coverings in anyway, she does not wish to restric her natural senses from harboring the touch of Mother nature's sweet lips.
She stand motionless in the center of the scarlet trail, above her hangs the sun in the east, and a cresent moon in the south. Her eyes close and her senses span through the entire forest, she can feel the slight push of the wind, the whisper of a humming bird's wings, the breathing of the ancient trees, fast in their slumber. The forest is her kingdom, her domain of nature and all at peace, except for one thing, Her Lost Lover, her eyes open to allow the slightest of tears to fall at her feet. Within the realm of her mind she sees him. An image of a man, tall and handsome, like a god, and yet, softer features. His eyes can only be compared to two crystals, floating upon an ocean of air, His skin is not pale, but soft, like the tan color of an eggshell, beautiful, soft, only she can see him for what he truelly is. His long brown hair, it would brush lightly against her face when their lips would meet. A laugh escapes her cherry lips, she cannot cry, for he has not left her, he is there somewhere.......The whistle of the winds, The whisper of the birds, The breathing of the trees, and even the scarlet on the trail. He will never leave her, as long as she remains here, in the forests, along the scarlet trail, He will always be with her.