“These ones are old,” Eletha murmured, standing beside Nelippe on the thick branch of a birch tree, high in the air.

Nelippe nodded. “Really old. I wonder how they even made it back here.”

Together, they watched as the meat-men clumsily tumbled into the woods, oblivious to her and her sisters' presence. Their faces were winded and wrinkled, and they were squinting, barely keeping their eyes open. The smell of sweat began to drift up into the air.

Eletha crouched and sat down on the branch, silently counting the number of new arrivals. Two, four, six ... nine.

Nine more meat-men entering the dryads' territory – nine more meat-men they were forbidden from killing and would, in fact, have to feed. If only she hadn't recognized them, she would have happily loosed a few arrows and saved the forest some pain.

But … orders were orders. The Oakmother was still upset at the death of her friend. She was so upset that she had decided to earnestly protect the villagers.

A warm wind swept past Eletha, lifting her hair and causing it to flow around her face. It carried her seed-sister’s voice.

“Should I take the lead again?” May asked.

Eletha stretched her hand and placed it on the trunk of the birch tree she was sitting on, sending out a trickle of magic in response. “You are our best when it comes to dealing with meat-men.”

After a few moments, May hopped out of the overgrowth a few hundred feet to Eletha’s left, slowly making her way to the nine new meat-men. After sparing Nelippe a glance, Eletha slid off of the tree and glided towards the ground, landing with one foot on a little pebble. From that one, she hopped to the next, and the next, until she met up with May, and they went together to greet the new arrivals.

One of them, a black-haired meat-man probably around Berrick’s age, pushed past the rest and looked at Eletha briefly before recognizing May and turning instead towards her. He knelt on the ground and stared at her pleadingly.

“Lady Maylissena,” he said. “I … We apologize for coming to the forest unannounced. We had no choice. The young ones forced us out of our cave.”

May smiled widely, briefly touching the vines wrapped around her chest and having them tuck in their leaves, exposing her skin. “That’s okay,” she said to the meat-men. “Leave your worries outside the forest – you’re safe now.”

“By chance, do you remember his name?” Eletha asked, tilting her head close and whispering in May’s ear.

“Nope, no idea—but I think he’s the guy that gave me his uncle a few weeks ago, on the last day of accord.”

“Right. I’ll play the righteous one, then,” Eletha said. Taking a deep breath, she gazed appraisingly at the meat-men and spoke up. “Humans. Our Oakmother has extended her hospitality to you. Do you seek refuge in our forest?”

May quasi-subtly glanced at the meat-men, then at Eletha, then at the meat-men again, repeating the cycle until they were confused.

“Um … Greetings, honored dryad,” the black-haired human said to Eletha. “Yes. Please, we do need to seek refuge. We won’t impose much, I promise.”

“What is your name?”

“Irelen, miss.”

“Irelen. Do you swear to honor the forest during your stay here?”

The human hastily nodded. “Yes. Yes, we all swear. We all swear, right?” he asked, turning towards the old men and women behind him. Eletha heard a bunch of murmurs and nods. “We will be respectful. We appreciate your help.”

“Alright then,” she said. “Nelippe! Come down and greet our guests the nice way.”

A rustle of leaves and a quiet thud sounded behind Eletha. Her shorter sister hopped up next to her, an obviously fake smile plastered on her face.

Eletha turned to her, then back at the meat-men. “My sister Nelippe will show you the way to your new home. Follow her steps precisely, if you can, so as not to murder the undergrowth on your way. Do not touch what you do not have to. Absolutely never lay a hand on any of our acorns. We will feed you later. Understood?”

The meat-men all nodded again. A whiff of fear began to waft through the air behind all the sweat. “Understood,” they said.

For a few moments, Eletha just stared at them in silence, letting them become increasingly uncomfortable. Somewhere in the distance, a bird began to chirp.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Finally, Nelippe signaled for them to follow her, and they slowly trudged away from Eletha and May along a pre-prepared path that led past the most delicate of plants on their way toward their clearing by the stream.

Eletha tapped the ground lightly with her foot, sending Nelippe a final trickle of magic and a message. “Make sure they don’t touch our acorns, sister. I don’t trust them.”

Without stopping or turning back around to face Eletha, Nelippe raised a hand and waved, acknowledging her request. Eletha turned back to May, standing beside her, and they both sighed.

“Nine more, huh?” May asked.

“Yup. Nine more. They’ll be hungry, no doubt. Damned be these meat-men and their stupid wars … We should just go out and slaughter those ‘bandits.’ We could have this all solved in a day.”

“The Oakmother is afraid that there might be too many of them. And that they might try to burn down the forest.”

“That’s why she ordered us to shoot before they get too close – but will we really be able to keep the perimeter, if half of our sisters are stuck caring for these old people? We’re dryads, May. We’re supposed to protect the forest. What we’re doing here isn’t natural.”

“I know … but maybe the Oakmother will change her mind. Let’s just give her some time.”

“Yeah … I guess. Back to work, then.”

May nodded. She glanced to the side, towards the nearest tree. Walking over to it, she placed a hand on it briefly, asking permission, then nimbly climbed up its trunk. Eletha turned around and went in the opposite direction.

After the sun went down, their work for the day was done. She and May, along with all the others who had toiled during the daylight hours, hopped along the various pebbles scattered on the leaf-covered ground as they made their way to their heart trees. They were tired from a day spent mostly emptily staring at the fields outside the forest.

Some of their older sisters hopped in the opposite direction, towards the positions they had just filled. They were to be the night's watch.

As was usually the case when they were at their sleepiest, Eletha and May started talking up a steady stream of stupid ideas.

“Thish foresht ish full off woad,” May said, making a face. “We needsh it all! It don’t feel nothin’ anywae!”

Eletha laughed as she sluggishly hopped from one pebble to the next, shaking her head and letting her hair fall freely behind her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a meat-man talk like that!” she said tiredly.

“Some of them do!” May replied. “Believe me! I talked to a lot of them on the last day of accord.”

“You sounded like you were trying to talk while blowing mud off your teeth!”

“That’s how he sounded!”

“No way. I don’t believe you.”

“Oh. Okay. Don’t believe the expert. Eletha, I’ve talked to easily ten times as many meat-men as you – or any other of our sisters, for that matter. I think I know what I’m talking about.”

Eletha shook her head, suppressing a smile. “Okay, fine, I’ll be open-minded. Try it again.”

May took a deep breath. “Thish here be called a ‘cart’! Roit noish invenchun! We ushe thish to lug around thingsh—”

Eletha broke into a giggle again, unable to hold a straight face. “May, if I hear a meat-man talking like that, I’ll shoot an arrow into him just to save his soul – and I don’t even want their souls to be saved.”

“Ha! Anything can pass for an excuse, just so long as we get to kill one of them.”

Eletha suppressed a yawn. “Indeed! Or more than one. Hey, I’m sorry, my heart tree’s right over there. I’ll see you at sunrise?”

“Yeah. I’m exhausted. Good night, Eletha!”

“Good night!”

May gradually moved ahead of Eletha, eventually vanishing from her sight and being enveloped by the darkness of the night. Eletha gazed upward, eyeing the full moon behind the layers of the forest’s leaves. If she strained her ears, she thought she could hear the singing of a few crickets. If she was right, they had arrived early. Spring was only just beginning.

It wasn’t just crickets, though. She heard the rustling and swaying of the undergrowth, caught in a gentle breeze, and the slow breathing of hibernating animals – hedgehogs and squirrels, mostly, hiding in their little dens.

As she made her way toward her heart tree, however, she also heard the quiet muttering of a female meat-man.

She grimaced. “It’s still not over?” she grumbled.

The villagers they had taken in were not given permission to come to this area … and yet, despite their trespassing, the Oakmother would likely not give Eletha leave to kill them.

Hopping quietly along the pebbles, she made her way to her heart tree. In fact, she found that two humans kneeled on the ground there, not only one. One was big, the other small. Eletha recognized them – they were Berrick’s kin.

“Good evening,” she said unenthusiastically.

The two of them both turned to face her and quickly got up from their knees. Their eyes searched for her unseeingly through the darkness.

“Good evening, honorable dryad,” the big one, the woman said. “We were—”

Eletha tried to remember the woman’s name, but she came up blank. Either because she was tired, or because she didn’t care to remember it. “Were you given permission to come here?” she asked.

“Y-yes. The, um … Oakmother led us here herself. She said we could stay and pray, so long as we didn’t touch anything. We did as she asked, and we didn’t touch any of the acorns. We promise.”

“When did the Oakmother say this? How long ago?”

“A while, by now. It was in the afternoon.”

“I see,” Eletha said. She failed to suppress a yawn. Dryads weren’t meant to stay up so late…

“We can leave,” the woman replied. “We didn’t before, because we thought we’d be wandering the forest unwatched, and you wouldn’t like that. We just need to finish our prayers – if you would be so kind?”

Right … Their names are Jennah, and … Luvelye, Eletha remembered. She seemed to be cursed with useless knowledge.

“Go ahead. Pray. I’ll be nearby.”

Jennah nodded, her cheeks trembling slightly. Eletha wondered why they did that … but it didn’t really matter. She hopped ahead a few feet, past her and her son. She heard them whispering some words of prayer to their lesser deity and then marking symbols on their foreheads. She looked around at their surroundings, seeing if they had, by chance, trampled over and murdered all the flowers she had planted around her heart tree.

It turned out that, by some miracle, they hadn’t. Next, she inspected her heart tree, looking over all of the leaves – and especially, the acorns.

Luckily for everyone, as far as she could see, they hadn’t lied. The acorns were all still there … and nobody would die.