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“You talk awfully well for a woman who claims she’s been inside a seed for more than a hundred years.” He changed the topic, mostly because he didn’t want to find a reason to forgive himself.
“The roots of my tree spread far and listened.”
He halted suddenly. “Wait, are you a dryad?”
“What gave it away?” was her dry reply.
“I thought dryads were gentle, fun-loving nymphs with green hair.”
“That would be the Meliae. They are the nurturing type.”
“What are you?”
“Not the nurturing type.”
As if he hadn’t noticed. “You never did tell me your name.”
“Because you don’t need it.”
“Ah, so it’s ugly and you’d rather not share. I get it.”
“I am not a child to be tricked into replying,” she said tartly.
“No, you’re just a grown-ass woman who is afraid to give her name, most likely for some wackadoodle reason.”
“If you must know, it’s Daphne.”
“Hello, Daphne. I’d say nice to meet you but that would be a lie.”
“Would it? Already you are less despondent.”
She’s right. This is the most fun we’ve had in ages.
Surprisingly true. “There’s a house up ahead. You can ask to use their phone to call for help.”
“Why would I call when I can help myself?”
“Because you can’t just order people to give you stuff.”
“I did with you.”
She’s got you there.
“Only a jerk wouldn’t give a naked woman his coat in this weather.”
“You only handed it over after I made you fearful for your life,” she reminded.
“I was not afraid!” he blurted.
“Yet here I am, wearing your coat while you get cold.”
“Not cold,” he grumbled. Mostly true. This conversation plus her wrapped around him did much to keep him warm.
“Once I commandeer new garments, I shall return it to you.”
“About the commandeering thing. You can’t bully people into giving you stuff.”
“Yes, I can. I’m quite good at it.” Spoken in a matter-of-fact tone.
