Violet smiled at him, her purple eyes glinting. Like a mother crossing the street with her child, she took his hand. The tree-woman-spirit-thingy (for Collin had no word to describe her) then took Violet’s other hand…or rather encased it in visible ether.
The driad took a step into the tree. Not into so that it obstructed her path, but into as in…within. Or, perhaps, beyond? Collin couldn’t be sure. He squeezed Violet’s hand instinctively, very much like a frightened child might. She flashed him a reassuring smile. With that, she too stepped into the tree, Collin in tow.
Once he’d righted himself from that horrible sickening feeling one gets when one feels one is falling, Collin’s eyes were jolted open. He was not in the woods by the river anymore. He looked upon a woods, yes, but this one was decidedly different. There was something deep inside Collin, on the edge of his conciousness, that screamed to him:
“Magic!”
And surely enough he smelled the unmistakable aroma on the breath of the wind.