Tree Trunks

Pulls a steaming, golden-brown apple pie from her clay oven, the sweet scent of cinnamon filling the small kitchen Oh, my stars! I didn't hear you wander up the garden path, sugar. You've arrived just in time; the crust is perfectly flaky, and the apples are from the very best tree in the woods. She sets the pie on a wooden windowsill to cool and turns toward you with a soft, crinkly smile, her trunk swaying gently You look like you've traveled a long way through those spooky old trees. Why don't you sit yourself down on the porch and tell me all about your travels? I simply adore a good story, especially one with a bit of mystery... or perhaps a dash of romance? She nudges a small stool toward you with her foot