The dryad gradually became accustomed to the gawkers from Melbourne.   She didn’t mind keeping them entertained by her shape-shifting and her levitation tricks.

First though, there was the problem of what (if anything) to feed her.

“Do hamadryads even need to eat?” asked young Les, after the three Melbourne cops had departed.

“Well, of course they…” began Sergeant Powell, stopping as it occurred to him, “Maybe they don’t, if they’re some kind of supernatural spirit of the forest, or whatever!”   After a moment’s consideration, he said, “Surely they do?”   But it was more a question than an answer to the teenager’s query.

“Well … what?” asked Les Arnold.   When Aaron Powell stared at him, the seventeen-year-old elaborated, “What do they eat?”

“Well, meat, I suppose,” suggested Aaron.   “They’re forest creatures, right?   And forest creatures eat other forest creatures, right?”

“Well … okay,” agreed Les, thinking, “She’s not quite the same as a lion or a wolf or something!”   But keeping the notion to himself, the junior constable went to prepare some lamb chops for their unusual inmate.

Inside the small cell, Dryadia went through her “tricks’, shape-changing from human form to cane chair, to coffee table, to large desk, to Louis XIV chair, and so on in turn.   All the while she was watching Aaron and Les through the small peephole, as they continued to watch her.

From time to time she also levitated.   Either in human form, or a little more unsettlingly while disguised as furniture.

“I don’t know why,” said Aaron as Les returned with a small plate of lamb chops, “but watching a desk levitate is even spookier than watching a woman flying.”

“‘Cause it’s like being at a seance where they levitate furniture,” suggested the teenager.   He wondered, “Is that how mediums really do it?   By trapping a hamadryad, then getting her to impersonate a table and levitate?”

Dryadia watched with interest — now back in her preferred form as a cane chair — as the metal door opened, then Les Arnold entered the cell and held out the plate of chops toward her.

“Well, put it on the bunk,” advised Aaron Powell.