She was old, not quite as old as time but old nonetheless. The birds thought she was ancient, but the fairies didn’t agree. Fairies live much longer than birds, so they know better.
She had been their home since the old days – back when the Pans ran around the glade. They had long since moved on but she hadn’t, she couldn’t. There were days where she cursed those old roots, all she could do was stand there and crane her limbs towards the sky, season after season. She missed them so, but at least she still had the fairies and the birds.