As Eletha stood and watched, May gracefully skipped out of the forest’s last line of trees. She jumped around the plant life all around her, finding pebbles to land on and finally a clear spot in the field that was free of all of it, including grass and weeds. There, she crouched down and placed a large, heavy, long-dead log, and set a smaller rock on top of it.

She got back up. “All right!” she shouted, skipping to the side of the log. “Ready!”

Eletha nodded. With a single fluid movement, she grabbed her bow, crouched low onto the ground, and gently handed it to Luvelye, the little meat-boy clumsily standing on a rock next to her.

Luvelye gulped, glancing at her nervously before taking the bow from her hands. She unstrapped an arrow from the vines around her thigh and offered it to him.

“Be gentle to the wood, little human,” she said. “Life was given to create this instrument.”

He nodded hastily, took the arrow … and then began shuffling his feet, looking down and shaking slightly. He was afraid. “I don’t know how,” he stammered. “I’ve never used a bow before.”

Eletha smiled at him, trying for the Oakmother’s sake not to appear the least bit threatening.

“Come on, Luvelye!” May shouted, her voice brimming with fake enthusiasm, from the field. “You can do it!”

The little meat-boy continued trembling. Eletha stood up and walked over behind him, then crouched back down to his level, right behind his back. Gently, she held his left hand, lifted it to the bow, and nudged his fingers into the correct position on its lower limb.

“Relax,” she said, breathing into his ear. “Just let our goddess tell you what to do.”

“I … I don’t hear her,” Luvelye said. “Mother says that Vifafey is the only …”

Eletha stopped listening, but she did manage to refrain from rolling her eyes. Instead, she smiled again at the boy, then shot a dirty look at Nelippe, who was disgustingly smirking while she sat on the branch of an oak tree behind them.

“Well, in that case, let me help you,” she told Luvelye. “Keep your fingers as I showed you, and slowly nock the arrow.”

Luvelye obeyed with all the grace a little meat-man was capable of, but given that he was Berrick’s son, and he was putting in effort, Eletha did not mock him.

“Very good,” she said, nudging him in the small of his back and then in his shoulders to correct his posture. “Now look towards that rock my seed-sister laid down on the log, and quickly pull the bowstring.”

Luvelye took a deep breath and did as he was told, but it quickly became apparent that he was far too weak to properly use the bow.

“Am I … doing something wrong?” he asked, straining his voice.

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“No, not in essence,” she replied, shaking her head. “Try to pull it back a little more, if you can.”

He did manage to do so, if only a little. His hands trembled wildly.

“How long do I have to hold?” he asked.

“You may let go whenever you wish,” Eletha said.

As soon as he did, the arrow flew wobbly and slowly through the air … for a mere few paces, before it fell into the dirt in front of the two of them. Behind them, Nelippe chuckled, nearly imperceptibly, and May, still standing on the field, lifted a hand to her lips to conceal her smile.

Eletha grimaced and sent a surge of magic through the ground towards them, delivering a message to stop messing around.

“By the everlasting life of Phosyphia, meat-men really can’t use bows, can they?” May asked jokingly in reply.

“No. They can’t. Now do your job – we are become ‘entertainment’.”

Eletha slowly lifted a hand toward Luvelye and ruffled his hair. Apparently, the little meat-man found that comforting, as two days earlier, she’d seen his mother do it to him.

“You did good,” she said. “And next time, you will do even better.”

“But I didn’t even get close,” Luvelye complained.

“The bow was the problem, not you. It is meant for larger people.”

“Larger people? Or only for dryads?”

“Only for … Maybe that is it, yes. But perhaps if you ask nicely, my seed-sister Maylissena will have her heart tree grow a bow that will suit you, as well.”

The little meat-man looked up at her and smiled. She returned the gesture and handed him another arrow.

“We’ll do this next one together,” she said. “Perhaps if I help you, the bow might obey.”

Luvelye nodded, nocked the arrow, and raised the bow. Better than the first time. Eletha corrected his posture again, then held the bow herself as well, her fingers a few inches above his. She pulled back the bowstring.

“You aim,” she said quietly. “And tell me when to let go.”

Luvelye nodded. Eletha spotted May looking smugly beside the rock she’d placed atop the log. A funny idea popped into her mind, and she discretely guided the boy’s aim just a little bit to the side of the rock…

“Shoot!” Luvelye said, quite apparently ignorant of her intervention.

Eletha gently released the bowstring, letting it slip away from her fingers. The arrow surged through the air, whistling as it flew, before embedding itself directly into May’s chest.

Luvelye jumped, instantly panicking and letting go of the bow. Eletha kept hold of it. May, many yards away, hunched over for a moment, groaning in pain, then looked up and glared at Eletha.

I warned you, Eletha said, through a trickle of magic. I told you to take this seriously. We are here at the command of the Oakmother.

May rolled her eyes, getting up and tapping the ground with her foot to send a silent reply:

“I told you that you were a suck-up. And to think that at one time, I had to plead for you to play nice with the meat-men. Now you do it gladly.”

Eletha grimaced, then turned her glare toward Nelippe. The young dryad nodded at her respectfully before another accident could happen.

Meanwhile, Luvelye panicked, wide-eyed and breathing hard, apologizing profusely and loudly to the three of them who weren’t listening. He didn’t dare move from the rock, lest he step on any plants and make them even more angry.

“Hey, Eletha,” May said, through a ripple of magic.

“What is it?”

“What did the rock say when the arrow hit it?”

Eletha grimaced, sighing inwardly.

“Nothing. It didn’t.!”

May and Nelippe both burst into laughter while Eletha groaned behind the little meat-man. Luvelye looked up at her again, scared and confused. She smiled, gently grabbing his shoulder, and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s all okay, little human,” she said. “You’ve done nothing wrong. We dryads can’t be hurt like that – look.”

She motioned towards May, who firmly grasped the arrow and pulled it out of her chest. As soon as she pulled it out, the wound filled up with vines, sap, and, finally, skin.

“You did good, Luvelye!” she called. “You almost got that little rock! Just aim a little to the left next time!”

The little meat-man’s heart raced. He said nothing.

“Want to try again?” Eletha asked.