THEFORESTwaslargeandthicklyovergrownwithallkindsofleaf-bearingtrees.Usually,itiscoldthistimeofyearanditevenhappensthatitsnow,butthisNovemberwasrelativelywarm.Youmighthavethoughtitwassummerexceptthatthewholeforestwasstrewnwithfallenleaves－someyellowassaffron,someredaswine,somethecolorofgoldandsomeofmixedcolor.Theleaveshadbeentorndownbytherain,bythewind,somebyday,someatnight,andtheynowformedadeepcarpetovertheforestfloor.Althoughtheirjuiceshadrundry,theleavesstillexudedapleasantaroma.Thesunshonedownonthemthroughthelivingbranches,andwormsandflieswhichhadsomehowsurvivedtheautumnstormscrawledoverthem.Thespacebeneaththeleavesprovidedhidingplacesforcrickets,fieldmiceandmanyothercreatureswhosoughtprotectionintheearth.Attimesduringcoldandstormynights,Trufawouldcomplain:“Mytimehadcome,Ole,butyouhandon!”“Whatfor?”Oleasked.“Withoutyou,mylifeissenseless.Ifyoufall,I'llfallwithyou.”“No,Ole,don'tdoit!Solongasaleafcanstayupitmustn'tletgo.”“Italldependsifyoustaywithme,”Olereplied.“BydayIlookatyouandadmireyourbeauty.AtnightIsenseyourfragrance.Betheonlyleafonatree?Nonever!”“Ole,yourwordsaresosweetbutthey'renottrue,”Trufasaid.“YouknowverywellthatI'mnolongerpretty.LookhowwrinkledIam,howshriveledI'vebecome!Onlyonethingisstillleftme－myloveforyou.”“Isn'tthatenough?Ofallourpowerslovethehighest,thefinest,”Olesaid.“Solongasweloveeachotherweremainhere,andnowind,rainorstormcandestroyus.I'lltellyousomething,Trufa－IneverlovedyouasmuchasIloveyounow.”“Why,Ole?Why?I'mallyellow.”“Whosaysgreenisprettyandyellowisnot?Allcolorsareequallyhandsome.”AndjustasOlespokethesewords,thatwhichTrufahadfearedallthesemonthshappened－awindcameupandtoreOleloosefromthetwig.Trufabegantotrembleandflutteruntilitseemedthatshe,too,wouldsoonbetornaway,butsheheldfast.ShesawOlefallandswayintheair,andshecalledtohiminleafylanguage:“Ole!Comeback!Ole!Ole!”Butbeforeshecouldevenfinish,Olevanishedfromsight.Heblendedinwiththeotherleavesontheground,andTrufawasleftallaloneonthetree.Solongasitwasstillday,Trufamanagedsomehowtoendurehergrief.Butwhenitgrewdarkandcoldandapiercingrainbegantofall,shesankintodespair.Somehowshefeltthattheblameforalltheleafymisfortuneslaywiththetree,thetrunkwithallitsmightylimbs.Leavesfell,butthetrunkstoodtall,thickandfirmlyrootedintheground.Nowind,rainorhailcouldupsetit.Whatdiditmattertoatree,whichprobablylivedforever,whatbecomeofaleaf?ToTrufa,thetrunkwasakindofgod.Itcovereditselfwithleavesforafewmonths,thenitshookthemoff.Itnourishedthemwithitssapforaslongasitpleased,thenitletthemdieofthirst.TrufapleadedwiththetreetogiveherbackherOle,tomakeitsummeragain,butthetreedidn’theedherprayers.Trufadidn'tthinkanightcouldbesolongasthisone—sodark,sofrosty.ShespoketoOleandhopedforananswer,butOlewassilentandgavenosignofhispresence.Trufasaidtothetree:“Sinceyou'vetakenOlefromme,takemetoo.”Buteventhisprayerthetreedidn'tacknowledge.Afterawhile,Trufadozedoff.Thiswasn'tsleepbutastrangelanguor.Trufaawokeandtoheramazementfoundthatshewasnolongerhandingonthetree.Thewindhadblownherdownwhileshewasasleep.Thiswasdifferentfromthewaysheusedtofeelwhensheawokeonthetreewiththesunrise.Allherfearsandanxietieshadnowvanished.Theawakeningalsobroughtwithitanawarenessshehadneverfeltbefore.Sheknewnowthatshewasn'tjustaleafthatdependedoneverywhimofthewind,butthatshewaspartoftheuniverse.Throughsomemysteriousforce,Trufaunderstoodt...