While Eletha hopped on pebbles along the forest path, Luvelye followed her like a baby duck following its mother … which was strange and annoying, considering the little meat-boy already had a mother. After so many days without a break, Eletha was growing tired of maintaining a kind, understanding expression on her face, catering to the whims of one meat-man or another.

Truly … it was no wonder that her sisters were starting to grumble behind the Oakmother’s back, muttering that by protecting the villagers, she was making a mistake, demanding too much of them, and going against the very natural order of things.

Eletha shared their feelings – every one of them. Still … she had faith … and at the very least, if any of the meat-men starved to death in the forest, their corpses would already be half the way to her heart tree. That’s what she told herself.

The little meat-boy hopped on the pebbles just behind her. Unexpectedly, he was getting pretty good at it. It was clear that he was making an effort – perhaps only because his mother had convinced him to – but still. He was no more harmful to the trees than animals were ... for now. In Eletha’s eyes, his life was worth more than those of half the other meat-men combined. His flesh, on the other hand, was worth very little, as he was really quite small. There wouldn’t be much fertilizer out of him unless he’d be allowed to grow up.

Fertilizer, however, was also precisely the reason he was currently following her and May around.

Eletha leaped onto a final pebble, a smooth, white one, which stood out clearly against the undergrowth. There, she paused, taking in her surroundings, the crystal-clear stream slowly flowing in its bank to her left, the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy of foliage above her. She slowly nodded as the meat-boy caught up to her, flanked by her seed-sister.

“Alright, Luvelye,” she said, turning to face the two of them. She had even remembered the boy’s name. “Here is the place. Empty your bowels wherever you want.”

Luvelye looked up at her. She saw his throat move up and down as he swallowed hard. For a few long moments … nothing happened.

Eletha frowned. She didn’t think she’d misunderstood his need, earlier. He was small, but he was a meat-man. He needed to leak water and feces somewhere … but he was gazing at her in what could likely only be described as fear. Perhaps she had nevertheless gotten something wrong.

“Is there a problem?” she asked.

The boy didn’t answer. He did seem to be a rather quiet one, constantly letting his mother talk for him, but it still struck her as odd. She glanced up at May, shrugging.

May shrugged herself, apparently just as clueless, then laid a hand on the vines covering her chest, asking them yet again to tuck in their leaves. They did, and in a few moments, she stood behind the boy nearly completely bare-chested.

Eletha remembered what May had once told her: ‘Show skin – show them that you look like them.’

It was becoming a daily necessity.

May hopped over to Eletha, then turned to face the little meat-man. His eyes fluttered toward her exposed, human-like breasts – just as May had planned. As his face turned a shade of dark red, she crouched down to his level and smiled.

“Hey, Luvelye,” she said, apparently having also successfully remembered his name. “We came here because we thought you needed to empty yourself. Were we wrong?”

Luvelye quickly shook his head.

“All flesh-things do it. Don’t be shy, just pick a spot. I’m sure the plants will be grateful.”

Luvelye nodded, slightly and awkwardly, then began to look around. May and Eletha smiled at him encouragingly.

“Could you … turn around, please?” he stammered. “I am … humans are shy.”

Eletha and May exchanged a look, then shrugged and did as he asked. “Just make sure you don’t step on anything fragile,” May said. “We trust you.”

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“And don’t touch the acorns,” Eletha added. “That’s Nelippe’s heart tree over there, she’ll kill you if you do.”

May turned her gaze conspiratorially to Eletha. “No, she wouldn’t,” she whispered, leaning to her ear. “I would.”

Eletha chuckled. “Absolutely not, seed-sister … I would have him dead before you could lay a finger on your bow.”

“Shall we find out?”

A good question, Eletha thought.

Behind them, they heard the rustling of cloth and, a little while after that, the trickling of water.

“I bet Nelippe would make us give her half, though,” May said. “The greedy little sapling.”

“Yeah, probably true. But it would be her acorn.”

“Yeah.”

Eventually, Luvelye completed his work, the sun began to set, and the undergrowth had received some fresh nutrients and moisture.

Eletha and May spoke a few kind words to the boy, then patted him on the head and led him back in the direction of the meat-man camp.

Despite the few arguments that could be made in its favor, the ‘camp’, as far as Eletha was concerned, was a place that should never have existed.

All her life, she and her sisters had guarded the sacred forest and its inhabitants from meat-men. Now, they provided them with a home inside it.

Moral truths seemed to be unconcerned with her opinions, however. She and May led Luvelye to the small clearing by the stream, where the rest of his kind sat around and waddled about, freely trampling on the little plants struggling to rise up out of the soil. Her sisters hadn’t been able to move them all before the meat-men were settled. Though rules were put in place, the damned meat-men weren’t fully capable of following them. Thus was their nature – and so the fragile little lives under their feet weakened and ended – and the meat-men didn’t even notice, let alone care.

Eletha frowned, watching the chaos as she entered the clearing, and marked the symbol of the goddess Phosyphia on her chest. May had the same idea. Together, they muttered a short prayer.

The meat-men were beginning to create evil things with the dead trees they had been provided. Shelters for them to sleep in, mostly. They were small, alien constructions, apparently meant to block the wind. They showed the wood no respect at all. They were worse than any other kind of animal.

Eletha felt an itch and turned away before her restless fingers could grab hold of an arrow.

Luvelye hopped ahead of her, landing lightly on a little pebble. She was just about to half-heartedly congratulate him on his efforts when he started to lose his balance, flailing his arms wildly before tumbling to the ground.

And so, the little sapling behind him was squished. At least he was light enough that it would quickly recover – so long as the leaves weren’t torn.

The little meat-man glanced up at her and May in fear, probably saw them both glaring, and got back up.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I’m really sorry, I fell –”

“It’s alright,” May interrupted, sighing. “That’s hardly the worst of the atrocities I’ve seen today.”

Unfortunately, she was telling the truth.

“So, Luvelye. Do you know now where to go, whenever you need to relieve yourself?”

He nodded quickly.

“Good. Then, take the knowledge you've been given and share it with the others of your kind. We have better things to do than lead meat-men around our forest all day.”

“M-Meat-men?”

Eletha smiled widely, realizing her mistake. “Humans.”

“Oh. Okay! I’ll do it – and we’ll be really careful when we go there. We won’t step on anything but rocks.”

“Excellent. Might you know where your mother is?”

Luvelye looked around the camp, his eyes stopping briefly on all of the meat-men lying around. “Um … I thought she was here, but … no.”

Beside Eletha, May leaned in. “Perhaps she’s with the Oakmother again,” she whispered into her ear. “They do seem to spend a lot of time together, reminiscing about old Berrick.”

Eletha nodded. It seemed plausible. “Just so long as she’s not by my heart tree again…”

“One more thing, please!” Luvelye said, stuttering. “Before you leave!”

“What is it?”

“It’s about the camp. Some of the old people said they wanted to ask if they could start a fire. It gets cold at night, and they’re too weak to live without one. That’s what they said. They said they were going to petition the Oakmother because it’s still winter, but I thought I’d tell you because … you’re nice…”

“Absolutely not,” Eletha snapped. “If any of my sisters or I spot a fire, we’ll shoot down the one who started it … and perhaps not only the one.”

“I … I understand,” Luvelye said. “I’ll tell them … Quickly. Thank you, honorable dryad.”

Eletha rolled her eyes, glaring at the little meat-man.

“My name is Eletha,” she said. “I believe I’ve already told you that, boy. This here is Maylissena.”

“I’m sorry! Eletha. And Maylissena.”

“Just May,” May corrected. “Anyway, I really don’t think we’ve been very demanding of you people. Stay in the clearing, don’t go about hurting and murdering things, don’t touch our heart trees … is it really so difficult? Tell me, little Berrick.”

Luvelye nervously shifted from one foot to the other, his gaze falling towards the ground. “No…” he said. “I don’t know.”

May shook her head. “All right… Well, is that all?”

Luvelye glanced back up, nodding, but then his eyes suddenly wandered past Eletha and May.

“Fire,” he said.

“What?” Eletha asked.

The boy swallowed hard and lifted his arm between May and Eletha, pointing somewhere behind them.

“Behind you. It … it wasn’t me, or any of us, but I see fire!”