She slept, and while she slept the wood grew around her, a canopy stretching out in all directions to shield moss from sun and encourage its spread, to cool the dirt and prosper the damp.
Where the foxes and deer walked so after them came the men on their feet and their horses, until the path was so well-trod that nothing would break through it to sprout.
She woke, but only just. She lazed there in comfort, waiting. Soon, he will be born, grow, prove himself worthy of me, come lean against the tree for a spell, and be mine.