Here in Maryland, springtime is finally battling back winter. This afternoon, I crept out our back door, cautious as a bear coming out of hibernation. First, I scented the air and caught the loamy tang of budding life. I did not smell snow or rain, and I took this for a good sign.

Next, I pawed my way through a pile of leaves to survey the bleak landscape. I found only one patch of sunlight baking the patio and I stood in it.

You must understand that my back yard overlooks a thick forest preserve. Sometimes little deer come to eat my grass, all spotted and frolicsome as Bambi, but more often the woods are foreboding. It’s the home of vicious wild cats that scream in the night. Its brush–in winter–is gnarled as a witch’s hand; the local firemen even tell me the forest behind my house is kindling field that could one day ignite into a raging fire.

But today, looking at those woods, it was different. It was different because today I was channeling Dessa–the heroine of my forthcoming novella with Nocturne Bites. Dessa is a Dryad. She is an incarnation of the woods; I’ve written her to be the embodiment of the natural laws of attraction. And I thought, for a moment, what this springtime day might look like for her.

I let the sunlight wash over me like hot water pouring out of the shower, running in golden rivulets through my hair. I lifted my face to it, and closed my eyes, and it felt clean. 

When I opened my eyes again, the world looked a little different. Some might say it’s because the sun was making me squint. But I think Dessa would understand.