She is slim as a sapling. But with breasts. Not too large, but seemingly so due to the tininess of everything else. Not an immodest girl.
But really beautiful girls don't need to be. How can a blossom hide its scent? She is too innocent to know how.
Or to know she ought.
Sometimes I look back and pity her; often I look back at her in anger. Poor thing. She doesn't deserve it. But how many days it feels like she does....
She is shy, because dryads are, you know. Only Artemis puts us at our ease.
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