Moon Girl, Part 2

Sara's hair wasn't only beautiful, it was strong.

Every few months, the fiddle maker in the village would ask her for a few hairs to string a particularly fine instrument he had made. And the tailor would send his assistant to beg permission to pick long pieces from her hairbrush, for he was planning an exquisite pinstripe suit to send to the King, who lived far away. Birds would collect fallen strands from the meadow and use them to build their nests, which were so strong that even the most wayward boys from the village couldn't knock them down.

Sara would grant these wishes if the asker was courteous, and didn't ask too frequently. But, on occasion, an archer would ask for a strand to string his arrow with, or a soldier would ask for a few strings to sharpen his sword, and she would gently decline.

Besides these short meetings and the rare occasion that a brave child of the village would speak with her, Sara spent most of her time alone, and she was generally happy. She spent her time walking in the meadow, or playing in the forest by herself. But, on clear nights she'd sit on the cliff and looking at the moon and it's solitary reflection in the ocean, (for in those days the moon's reflection on the ocean was the same as it is today on a still lake, with no trailing reflection in the water), and she would wonder if the moon was as lonely as she sometimes felt.