All along their path, the bald old man made no effort to spare any plant's lives. If anything, he seemed to deliberately step on and injure more of them than necessary.
Play nice. The Oakmother's words were stuck in Eletha's mind like a cancer.
Eletha was disgusted by the meat-man's actions, as were all the other dryads that they passed, but she said nothing.
The Oakmother had called this one a friend, she recalled … Berrick was one that they had all known for a while, as leader of the humans, but still. She wanted him protected, and he seemed even to know his way through the forest.
"The sun has gone down," he said suddenly, breaking the silence and stopping in the middle of a small clearing. He turned to Eletha, gazing at her irritatedly. "Want to kill me?" he asked. "I'm still in your territory."
Eletha grimaced. Of course, she did – but what she wanted was beside the question. "The Oakmother would see you protected," she replied.
The human snorted. "Sure she would … Hel, well, maybe she would make an exception for me. But … just for me."
He seemed to grow sad. Eletha didn't really care. It was growing dark, but just ahead of the two of them, all of a sudden, she thought she saw … a very large hole in the ground.
Quickly, she darted between it and the meat-man, grabbing her bow from her shoulder and nocking an arrow. "Stand back," she said. "And move back. We're not going this way."
"What is it?" the human asked.
"A screecher's tunnel."
The human's breath caught in his throat.
Eletha knelt on the ground, bow at the ready, for a moment disregarding the comfort of the little plants beneath her. She slipped a thread of green-glowing magic from her knees into the ground, sending a message to her sisters and probing for the location of the abyssal, god-made monster.
Finding nothing, she slowly got back to her feet. "It's not here right now," she said, not turning away from the tunnel. "But we'll take a detour regardless."
"Agreed," the human replied. He seemed nervous. "So she was telling the truth? By Vifafey, now we've even a screecher to deal with?"
"Screechers have nothing to do with that lesser god of yours," Eletha said, shaking her head. "Now come. Let's go."
She heard the rustling of leaves behind her as the human began to move his feet. After a moment, she followed, then skipped ahead of him, carefully scanning their surroundings again.
The moon continued to slowly rise in the sky. For a while, they made their way through the dark forest in relative silence, though the human's lumbering steps across dried twigs and leaves distracted Eletha from her search for the monster. Then he spoke again.
"If you won't help us," he said, "do you think the screecher might?"
Eletha cringed despite herself. "You would ask a screecher for help?"
"Why not?" the old human sighed. "I've run out of friends to ask. I'm desperate."
Eletha remained silent for a few moments, then shook her head. "I know nothing of the issue, yet I find the answer to your question to be beyond obvious."
"No," the human said, scowling. "Human-hating monsters will not agree to help."
"No. They won't."
"Well then … I guess we truly have no friends here at all. The bigots were right all along. We humans are alone in this world – even nine out of ten gods hate us."
Eletha smiled. Just what does that say about you? she wondered, though she didn't deign to say the words aloud.
As time went on, the human seemed to grow more and more solemn. Eventually, the two of them made it to the edge of the Oakmother's sacred forest, and Eletha jumped out of the undergrowth onto a human-made path constructed entirely of smooth pebbles. It was the first time she'd left the trees in decades...
The feeling of isolation arrived without delay. Her magic stirred, tangling itself further into her body as it lost its connection to her distant heart tree.
For a moment, she remained perfectly still, looking around. She marveled at the open field ahead of her, lit by moon and starlight. It was strange, seeing nothing above her but the sky.
The human soon stumbled out of the forest behind her. He roughly patted himself down with his hands, saw her staring at the stars, and smiled. "Ha … You're just like Vephena was," he murmured. "First time out of the trees?"
Eletha turned her gaze towards him. How exactly did he know the Oakmother?
"She was especially interested in that one, there," he said, pointing out a star to the left of the full moon. "That one doesn't move."
Eletha grimaced. "Do stars normally move?"
"All of them do. All the time … But not that one. It's useful for finding your way home if you get lost … Though I suppose that doesn't concern you."
Eletha remained quiet, looking at the star he'd pointed out.
The human shook his head. Eletha thought she saw a tear leave his eye. "So, are you really going to follow me all the way home?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Fine," he sighed. "Then I, too, lift our 'law of trespass.' Tonight, you are welcome outside the trees, dryad."
Eletha snorted. She'd actually forgotten that humans had the right to deny dryads entry to the plains, just as the dryads could deny humans entry to their forest. Why would a dryad ever even want to go to a place with no trees in the first place?
She shrugged. Apparently, there were times when it was necessary.
"I'm Berrick," the human said. "I suppose you should know, since you'll be meeting my family."
"I have no wish—"
"I know," the human said. "I'm joking. But what is your name? So far, I've only dealt with Vephena and Maylissena."
Eletha narrowed her eyes and gazed at him for a few moments, tilting her head to the side. "Eletha," she said finally. Just how had he dealt with Maylissena?
"It's nice to meet you, Eletha. Now, I suppose it's my turn to lead, and yours to follow."
Eletha nodded, and Berrick turned away from her. "Don't start shooting arrows at people," he murmured. "Leave it to the bandits…"
For a moment, he looked towards the sky, then he started walking along the pebbled path, the 'road', in the direction of the humans' settlement. She followed closely behind him – walking, not skipping on the rocks, for the first time in years. It didn't take long for one of them to break the silence again – but this time, it was her.
"There's another screecher tunnel," she said, gazing toward a large black pit in the middle of the field. "To your right."
Berrick looked blindly through the darkness for a few moments, saw it, and cursed. "Chi'orat! This close to the village? Is the beast in there?"
"No," Eletha replied. "I sense nothing. Let's keep going."
The human nodded and started to walk a little faster. "It better not have attacked already … we need to prepare … get out of here…"
Soon enough, the two of them made it further into the grasslands than Eletha had ever gone. In the distance, past the fields of grass, a group of unnaturally rectangular dark shapes appeared – apparently, the humans' living spaces. 'Houses', according to Berrick.
Meat-men are strange, Eletha thought … though really, if she thought about it, it wasn't too different from how birds gathered sticks or how badgers dug holes in the ground for their young. Everyone needed a nest of some kind … a heart tree …
They passed a group of humans walking along the 'road', but it was dark enough that they didn't recognize Eletha. She must have seemed a human to them, walking around in the darkness, nowhere near the forest. She shuddered despite herself – regardless of the advantage, she'd really rather not have even been perceived as a meat-man.
Not long after, once they'd gotten closer to the settlement, wherein the humans foolishly burned small fires in their houses, they passed more people.
Grateful for her eyes, which were clearly superior to those of humans, Eletha even recognized some of the men from the ritual in the forest, though she hadn't bothered to remember their names … except the one.
She saw Sam carrying a 'bucket,' something made to be filled with water, from a 'well.' It was empty, but it smelled of dirt.
She strolled past him, right behind Berrick, who somehow kept answering her questions before she could even ask them. He was strangely kind to her. He'd even stopped torturing the grass under his clothed feet … and he seemed sad about something.
She began to shift uncomfortably. Annoying thoughts began to creep into her mind, each one of them related to 'playing nice'.
Even the Oakmother says I should…
Suddenly, the meat-man stopped. "Okay, I—" he started.
"Thank you," Eletha cut in.
Berrick stopped speaking mid-sentence, seeming taken aback. "…Sorry, what?"
"I said thank you," Eletha said. "For humoring me. For answering my questions regarding all these human things."
"Oh … Oh. That's okay. It's nothing, I just like talking. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that we've made it. This is my house, here."
Eletha looked past the human and gazed at the rectangular mound of dirt and stone, hollowed out like an old tree trunk, with orange light streaming out of three openings. Almost no wood, she thought. All the other houses are made just about exclusively out of it.
"What are you?" she murmured, mostly to herself.
"I'm sorry?"
She shook her head. "Never mind."
"You don't have to guard me any longer," Berrick said. "You can go if you want. Will you be able to find your way back to the forest? I'd walk you, but I doubt you'd want me to in the first place, and it would defeat the point of you escorting me here."
"I can sense the way," Eletha replied. "I will tell the Oakmother you survived the night."
"Thank you, Eletha. Be safe. There are bandits somewhere around here."
It was at that moment that another meat-man walking past the two of them through the darkness suddenly stopped and stared at Eletha. "Y-you—"
Apparently, the middle-aged man lost his voice. Eletha frowned. She and Berrick turned towards him.
"D-dryad!" the man gasped. "Here?! People—"
"Yes, yes, calm down, merchant," Berrick said. "She's a friend."
"I am not," Eletha spat, grimacing.
Berrick glared at her for a few moments, then rolled his eyes and turned back to the merchant. "An acquaintance, then. Just keep moving, merchant, and she won't harm you."
"Y-yes …" the man said, hastily moving along away from the two of them.
Berrick turned to Eletha and shrugged. "Sorry, acquaintance," he said. "That's another newcomer, a merchant that somehow made it past the bandits. I apologize if he offended you."
Eletha shrugged. Actually, she had quite enjoyed watching the man squirm.
She hesitated for a few moments, then sighed. "Berrick," she said finally. "I think I might tell you something."
"Hm? What is it, has Vephena given you more instructions? I thought her voice couldn't reach outside the forest."
Her eyes shot up to the human. "You really do know too much."
He smiled tiredly.
"But no," she said, looking away. "This might, in fact, be unnecessarily stretching my duty to protect you on your way home, but well … I can't really tell anymore. You are a friend of the Oakmother's, and … well, you were kind to me, in your own horrible meat-man way…"
"Continue," Berrick said.
Eletha shook her head. "Do you remember the man with the bucket?" she asked.
"The … oh, do you mean that one from before? Yes. What about him?"
Eletha grimaced, unsure of herself, but continued anyway. "That bucket he carried," she said. "It was dark, but you told me he'd be using it to carry water from the 'well' to his nest."
Berrick nodded, somewhat confused. "I … apologize if the wood it's made of offends you."
"It certainly does, but that's not what I want to say. The bucket was empty. Or … empty-ish."
"Okay…?"
Eletha shook her head, slowly growing irritated. Humans really did have no connection to plant life at all. "He was carrying it back to his 'house'," she said, "but it was empty. He didn't fill it up at the 'well'."
"I see."
"He didn't take anything from the well, but he did put something in," Eletha continued. "When we were passing by it, I sensed the unjust suffering of some young plants from its direction. I doubt you'd care, normally, but … they were nightshades."
Berrick winced, then stared at her wide-eyed. "Poison," he gasped.