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Deep inside the Gaian forest, many mystical, magical, mythical, majestic and malevolent creatures live.
Many ignorant and innocent Gaians have wandered into the forest, in awe at some of the most beauteous scenery around... and have become lost to it. More specifically, they became it's lunch.
Befitting a creature of it's complex makeup, Rose sat high up in a tree deep in the Gaian forest. However, this magical mutt was used to the indoors, and had never steeped herself into the deep wilderness, and was unaware as to the silent conversations going on around her. Many dark and hungry creatures could smell her tears. The nymphs, however, could be a formidable force, with as many as were around. No fewer than seventy of the forest protectors melded into trees, bushes, puddles, moss, and flowers in the area surrounding Rose.
Intruiged, they argued inaudibly as to what she was, why she was here, and what she would do.
The water nymphs did not like her salt-water tears, and argued that they should deal with her by letting the dark creatures have her. Some of the moss nymphs thought they should bind her to the tree to rot. Rose had, however unintentionally, disturbed a peaceful patch of moon-fed candle-moss, a rare breed that reflected the moon's light just before dawn. The bush nymphs just wanted to watch her. She had not stepped on a single bush on her way into the forest. Of course, she had been flying most of the way, but that concerned them little. She seemed, to them, gracious. The flowers thought her pretty, and wanted to bestow upon her gifts, but the trees, the strongest of them all, were very alarmed at her presense here.
It was quite a while before they all agreed that she had to be part demon, and part angel, with something of other things mixed in. This changed their thoughts on her, but not entirely. The moss nymphs wanted to burn her alive, and the whole lot of them agreed that she should not be in the forest. Fearful of the wrath of angels, and fearful of the girl herself, being part demon, they all slunk off, vowing to protect their part of the forest, but no longer offering her any kind of protection from the other creatures of the forest.
Unbenownst to Rose, the nymphs retreated, and a deeper darkness came forth.
Slowly, the dark things neared the tree, as the light from the weak moon waned. It was the dead of night. And they called it that for a reason.
Rose was leaning her head drowsily against the tree trunk, her thoughts flowing past her like a busy river, and she, unable to grasp a one, felt herself almost giving in to sleep.
A strange bug scrambled up the large sycamore tree, and watched her. It was waiting for her to fall asleep. Then it would bite, and she would fall prey to it and it's other, and larger, friends below.

... to be continued...