In the depths of a dark wood the sun beat down on thick foliage, filtered through heavy green leaves that smelled musky and damp. A lithe figure slipped through the trees, a maroon cap pulled low over his eyes as he crept down to an open meadow. There he hoped to find a deer, unaware or perhaps uncaring that he was making his way through the woods. They had little enough to fear of dryads, after all. Like their brethren the trees, dryads did not eat meat or if they did, they ate little enough to not bother such large game.