Eletha crouched down on the two pebbles under her feet and gently nudged the short, yellowing patch of grass struggling to grow under the shade of fallen leaves.

Her breath came to her slowly, unwillingly, as she held back the tear that had pooled in her eye.

“It won’t be long now, friend,” she whispered. “You’ll be soil again soon, and then part of another life. I’ll ensure you get to reach the sunlight. All you need do is let go…”

The grass remained silent, slowly rotting, wet with morning dew.

Suddenly, the magic in the air shuddered … and gradually slowed to a halt. The soil she had exposed from beneath the fallen leaves glowed for a brief moment before fading back to its usual dark brown color.

“I wish you good fortune, little life,” Eletha said. “May the goddess Phosyphia preserve and guide you to her realm beyond.”

“And may new life sprout from your remains,” finished a familiar voice.

Eletha closed her eyes and marked the symbol of Phosyphia on her chest, two circles and a flowing line crossing them, then turned to face her seed-sister.

“May,” she said. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Eletha. For some of us, anyway.” She sighed. “These days are so harsh to the little ones. I’ve already stumbled upon hundreds of the dying or dead today.”

“So have I.”

“You’ve spent your time blessing every one of them before they could pass on, haven’t you? That’s nice of you, Eletha, but we have a job to do. The forest needs to be guarded, now more than ever. You cannot help them all.”

Eletha nodded, then lifted a hand towards her face and brushed away her tears. “Well … I’m glad I could help that one.”

May looked at her seriously, then jumped onto some small white pebbles that lay on the ground closer to Eletha, and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“The cycle will continue,” May said. “Death always chases life, but it cannot truly destroy it.”

“I know … But I don’t like seeing it try,” Eletha replied. She took a deep breath, then parted herself from her seed-sister’s arms. “Why did you come, May? This isn’t your sector. You should be watching over the walnuts and rosewoods by the stream.”

“Something is happening today, Eletha. The Oakmother asked me to come and bring you to her sacred grove.”

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“Oh? What for?”

“I don’t know. But many of our sisters are moving around unusually. Perhaps there is to be another day of accord.”

Eletha frowned, standing up straight as May did the same. “So soon?” she asked. “Well, I suppose the villagers are in trouble. It makes sense that these days will come more often as they die.”

“The meat-men are in trouble?” May asked. “There is only one screecher. How much damage would it really do to them?”

“The bandits,” Eletha said. “The meat-men count their own among their enemies.”

May shook her head. “Strange, they are. Truly just like colonies of ants … only far more harmful to the world around them. Let’s go. We shouldn’t keep the Oakmother waiting.”

Eletha nodded. Together, the two of them made their way, hopping along pebbles and stones of various small sizes, to the Oakmother’s grove.

The trees whispered all along their path, speaking through the wind in a language only they could understand. Birds chirped happily up on their branches, building little nests for their young, and mice and rabbits scuttled in and out of their dens between the tree roots. Even a rare blue-tailed fox peeked out of a thicket of leaves, watching the two of them curiously as they passed.

When they arrived at the Oakmother's grove, they found it crowded. Twenty of their sisters were already there, silently looking around, their gazes settling on May and Eletha.

Do they know what I did? Eletha suddenly thought. Do they know I helped the humans?

Guilt began to tug at her mind, but her sisters betrayed no hint of knowledge regarding her blasphemy. They stood around the Oakmother, who was sitting on a mossy, fallen log, set aside on the ground for the next day of accord. Beside her sat two meat-men, a woman and a young boy – and the beheaded, ravaged body of another.

The Oakmother cradled the beheaded, ravaged body in her arms, struggling but failing to hold back tears.

“What happened?” Eletha whispered to May. “The Oakmother is …? Then … is that Berrick?”

“I don’t know any names,” May said. “But … yeah. I think it might be. He was the Oakmother’s … never mind.”

The Oakmother looked up from the body, genuine sorrow in her eyes. She gazed at Eletha and May and beckoned them to approach her, then lowered her gaze to Berrick’s remains again.

“Oakmother,” Eletha said, once she and May were standing before her. “What happened?”

“The screecher,” the Oakmother said, choking back a sob. “It devoured him. I knew it was out there; I knew it would eat one of them, but … out of all the humans … I never considered that it might choose him. Not even once. I never thought…”

“I’m sorry, Oakmother,” May said.

The Oakmother looked at her for a moment and slowly nodded. She motioned towards the two humans sitting beside her.

“Maylissena,” she said, her voice trembling. “These two are his kin. They brought us his body. They are to be welcome here in our forest, now and always … See to their needs.”

May nodded, then walked up to the two humans and crouched before them, speaking quietly.

“Eletha? You … I have a different task for you.”

“What do you need of me, Oakmother?” Eletha asked.

“The other humans are gone,” said the Oakmother. “They have left the village and gone into hiding. Only these two have come to do us this kindness by bringing me Berrick’s body. Did you happen to see where the others went? Have you noticed anything suspicious while patrolling the border?”

Eletha shook her head. “No.”

“No? Well, regardless, I want you to take command of the guard. If any villager that you recognize comes running towards our forest, I want them to be welcomed in it. If you see anyone else, I don’t even care if they cross the border or not. No more ‘playing nice’. Show them no mercy.”