<div align="center">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/3/35/Pretty_page_break.png)</div><br/>There were few moments of true quiet in Ravenroost.  But the hours preceding dawn came close, as those that moved to insure that all was ready for the waking of the castle's nobles moved with a quiet air to avoid waking their charges.<br/><br/>And so it was the the dryad moved about her Mistress' suite.  Her bare feet padded on the floors without a sound as she returned from the kitchen with fresh juice and milk gathered by those who woke even earlier than she.  The tray was arraigned carefully, soft linen napkin set with spotless silver utensils.  Everything was perfect, had to be flawless... The spirit woman moved to the garden and reached to one of the blooms on the rose bush.  She leaned close and kissed it as her fingers pinched the stem and removed it painlessly from the beautiful shrub.<br/><br/>In her time here, she had breathed her gift into her Mistress' garden making it a wondrous mix of color and fragrance.  If asked, she would not have been able to say how long she had been here, time was strange to a tree spirit, both fleeting and slow at the same time.  Her lessons had been long, and sometimes she still had to be reminded of her place and her duties.  Only now it made her weep not only from the pain but from failing her Mistress.<br/><br/>With the fresh rose, everything was in place.  The dryad chewed her lip and looked to the last duty of her morning before her Mistress awoke.  Even now, even as much as she longed to please her Mistress Niaobe, she had to force herself to obey.  She moved to her tree and her eyes fixed upon the sigil there.  Carved into the bark and kept fresh day after day.  The tree had grown around it, creating a ridge of raised bark along the edges of that mark.  The dryad reached out, tracing it with her finger and whimpering softly.  The mark was ingrained deep and the daily ritual of it had caused it to appear upon her own shoulder, darkening over days and weeks until it was as clear as the brands burned into the other slaves here.<br/><br/>Then she heard the soft noise of her Mistress stirring and the dryad hurried to finished.  There was only place she could be when her Mistress awoke.  She lifted the knife from were it rested at her tree's base and carried it with her to the bedside.  As always, she gazed down at the half-elf sleeping there so vulnerable.  But it was only her Mistress that kept the hands of men at bay.  Only her Mistress that kept them from her and her tree.  Only her Mistress that made them stop at touching her lightly.  Only her Mistress kept her from being torn and hurt like the others in the dungeons.<br/><br/>The dryad knelt and lifted the sheathed blade up in offering.  She would remain so until the Mistress awoke, motionless for minutes or hours.  Her Mistress gave so much, but there was a price.  Only her Mistress was allowed to hurt her, and it was a right she enjoyed greatly.  But so long as she was good, Mistress would protect her from the others... from the men... So long as she was good, Mistress would reward her and praise her and allow her pleasure as well as pain.<br/><br/>And so she knelt and waited for her Mistress to awaken and tried very hard not to tremble.