...but to be completely truthful, I do not hate all human beings, and could not if I wanted to.  To play the philosopher's part, I simply believe that they were cursed by creation with a corrupt nature, and thereby curse Nature as the inevitable victim of it.  Such lofty wisdom aside, I do realize that not all humans have an equal portion of evil in their hearts, and even I can find it in my somewhat hardened soul to feel compassion toward some of these strange creatures.  As I near death--or the unfeeling, crumbling state that is death to a tree--my endless thoughts keep returning with greater and greater frequency to a certain person I came to know quite well, so well that I could go so far as to call her my only human friend.  She was no frequent visitor but nevertheless stood far, far apart from the other humans that crossed my path.  From the first time I saw her, I sensed that she naturally understood more about the way of things--and the way of me and the other trees--than almost any other human.  Somewhat ironically, I also ended up knowing more of this person, from the shallowest surface to the deepest reaches of her heart, than any human besides herself ever did.  I suppose that is a part of the tragedy of her life; I must say I made an utter failure of a companion, despite my best efforts--but we will get to this a bit later.  The name her mother and father gave her was Adela, though after her first visit I began calling her Little Green Eyes (my own admittedly humorous, tree-like attempt at naming) and quickly forgot about her human title, which was meaningless to me.  Knowing her gave me hope that there were humans in the world that thought differently than the rough, cruel men who came to murder the forest, though Little Green Eyes would inflict in me more sorrow during the course of her unfortunate life than I believe trees were ever meant to feel.

By grace of the ever-restless wind, I caught her scent long before I saw her, when she was too far on the other side of the hill to be visible.  She smelled of some strange, yet exotic scent--if I had to describe it now, I would compare it to European spices--and in addition to this were the obvious scents of human youth, and of tears.  A great, great many tears.  For tears, those salty little water droplets unique to humans, had been running tiny, swift rivers down this girl´s cheeks for some time, marking her path where she walked along the ancient, dusty human road with little dark circles every few steps.  As lonely as I was, and as harmless and sad as she struck me, I rustled my leaves with interest to encounter this human soul, and turned all my attention toward observing her as she came.

Soon I saw her frail form, with skin of the palest, smoothest pink-white and long, straight hair as black as a starless night sky.  That long hair hung unbound and free to stream behind her, waving in little tendrils in the light wind.  Her clothing was also all black in color, and she wore what I later learned was a little jacket over a dress and stockings.  Her tiny black shoes were very shiny, and held on with bright silvery buckles that reminded me of moonlight reflected on water.  Her hands were hidden inside a furry black muff (yes, I did cringe to see this!), though it was only early autumn and not yet very cold in my opinion.  She stood out sharply against the pale grass of the field, almost like a crow gliding through the bright blue sky, only she was not rough and noisy like they are.  She came slowly and almost silently, and though sadness emanated from her tiny form with shocking strength, she held her head high, surveying everything before her.

Then there were her eyes.  If I ever in my life have been jealous of anything human, it has to have been those eyes.  Her eyes drew my simple-minded admiration immediately, being bright, bright green, a green so bright it seemed to glow in both shadow and sun.  A green brighter than that of the healthiest grass, the newest leaf--indeed, her eyes were almost shaped like leaves, long and gracefully round and pointed at each end.  (I believe a more acceptable description would be "diamond-shaped," though of course, at that time, I had no idea what a diamond was or what it looked like.)

Though her head was held still, this girl's eyes never ceased moving back and forth across the field, the forest, the wide sky--and myself.  It did not take long for those eyes to focus on my tall leafy form, towering as I seemed to at the far end of the low sloping hill.  As she neared me, she left the human path and walked slowly up to where my roots protruded all knobby from the earth.  Her little oval-shaped face turned up to gaze at my leaves, and I fluttered them in a bold, raspy sort of greeting.  Of course, the girl remained silent, but continued to stare upward, her bright eyes sparkling as fiercely as the largest star, the tears continuing to roll down her cheeks.  I could not have known that she was actually staring through my layers of leaves to the patches of late afternoon sky that showed through them, or that she was searching for proof of what the adult human had told her was located high, high up in the sky: the humans' Heaven.  She was a questioning sort, as I soon learned, never content with anything anyone else told her, never able to trust anything she could not see and feel for herself--at least in most cases.

Anyway, at this time the sun was sinking quickly toward the horizon, bleeding hues of pink and orange into the sky and clouds as it went.  Day had nearly ended, yet this girl continued to stand motionless under me, apparently held by some intriguing or pressing thought.  I continued to wonder in my tireless way why she had come, where she was going, how long she would stay.  I had never before caught a human´s attention for such a long moment, and the feeling of her closeness was both strange and comforting.  Still, her great sorrow was quickly affecting me, try as I might to fend it off, and I felt myself feeling more and more sympathy for the child.  Though I knew Little Green Eyes seemed younger to me than to other humans, her sadness struck me as a feeling that should have belonged to one many years older, one who had seen a great many small tragedies and spent her days going over each, one by one in her mind...