Brooklyn honestly didn't know why he was so tempted. He knew humans were vile, some even more wicked than the gods up in Olympus. Of course he'd heard the stories the other nymphs whispered to each other.
'Do you know what happens when they see young dryads?'
'They try to chase them down, hunt them for sport.'
'Some clever ones will use nets to trap them like prey.'
'When they catch you they will ravage you, rape you.'
'If they chase you, turn into a tree. Don't let them catch you. After all, no one wants to marry a broken nymph!'
Yet, whenever he heard their voices, his voice, he couldn't help but wonder if they'd been wrong. He saw him almost everyday, leading his hunting party, his eyes filled with enthusiasm and joy as he rode on his horse through the dense vegetation.
He couldn't help it, the sound of his voice made him feel all warm inside, and his face made his knees go weak. Such beauty surely couldn't invoke any evil, could it?
Of course it could, he should know better than to long after a human, a Prince of all people. Most likely his heart would be filled with nothing but pride and ambition and greed. His youth and virtue would fade away and be replaced with hunger for power, for old men with high power knew no love. Brooklyn would only ever serve for pleasure to him, if he would be considered valuable at all. A female nymph could birth him strong and beautiful children who would grow up to be worthy heirs, perhaps even heroes. But he? He didn't think he'd be of any use at all.
Everyday he watched him hunt, talk and laugh with his friends. And everyday he watched him leave, without knowing of his existence. Brooklyn hated the sadness that came along with watching him lead his party out of the woods. It was an empty feeling, a silent ache that tugged at his chest. He hated it, yet he didn't want it to go.
So one day he decided to take his chance. It was a bright autumn day and the forest was a beautiful palette of different shades yellow, orange and red. The warm colours shone through in the sunlight, which burst through the colorful leaves in rays, creating beautifully imperfect shapes on the ground. The Prince was sat by the river, washing the blood out of his clothes after another successful hunting trip.
Brooklyn snuck closer, mesmerised by the muscles of his bare back, wanting to trace over his shoulders. He appeared so ethereal, so perfect. He got a bit closer, his heart throbbing with fear and excitement. He took another step closer, and another, and another. He could almost touch him now.
Perhaps he had been too reckless. Perhaps the wind betrayed him and carried over his scent. Perhaps he hadn't looked where he walked and stepped on a crunchy leaf. Perhaps he'd been too trusting of the picture perfect image in his mind. Whatever it was, it all came to the same conclusion.
Before he'd even had the chance to speak the Prince had already jumped up from his spot and had his sword pointed at the young nymph.
Brooklyn stumbled backwards in shock, falling back onto the with leaves covered ground. He flinched when the man started to shout. "How dare you try to sneak up on me! What were you intending to do? Kill me? Steal from me?"
Brooklyn couldn't reply. There was a knot in his throat preventing him from making the slightest noise. He looked up at the man towering over him with dread. The Prince lifted his sword.
"You will regret your hubris, nymph!" he hissed, before bringing down his sword.
Brooklyn rolled away and felt the blade graze his shoulder as it hacked into the ground where he'd lain just a second earlier. He quickly got on his feet as he rushed away from the raging human who quickly untied his horse and began to chase him. The dryad's breath caught in his throat as he heard the familiar clacking of hooves get closer and closer.
