A few days after the day of accord, just after Eletha had untangled herself from her heart tree and skipped over the flowers surrounding it to go patrol her section of the border, she heard the meat men’s distant bell ring.

It chimed once … twice … thrice.

Three chimes. That meant nothing to the dryads – not to any of them but Eletha. Berrick had told her – if the other meat-man turned out to be an enemy, he would let her know.

She shivered. She didn’t know what had come over her that night. Perhaps exhaustion? The Oakmother had told her to play nice, but she’d gone and broken the pact of neutrality!

She’d helped one meat-man discover the murderous plot of another – what if that got out? What if someone found out?

She shook her head, grimacing. It felt wrong … but she didn’t feel as guilty as she knew she should have. She was looking forward to bringing a fresh corpse to her heart tree. That little headless girl she’d pulled under her roots was serving her well, but it had been a very long time since she’d had a full-grown man.

Clearly, there was something wrong with her. Dryads weren’t supposed to interfere in human affairs. The Oakmother had told them that countless times. Though … was it really so wrong to turn one meat-man against another – particularly, when she did so with nothing but the truth, and in so doing, gained the forest fresh fertilizer? Was it really such a terrible thing, to stop a murderer from murdering more?

She shrugged, unsure of herself. The birds kept singing, not giving a tweet about what she’d done.

“Well, I might as well go and take what was promised me,” she sighed. She’d probably need to ask the Oakmother for guidance later, but what was done was done.

She quickly hopped along various pebbles scattered on the ground toward the direction of the edge of the forest, nearest the human ‘village.’ She did so lithely, careful not to make any noise that might disturb her sisters – despite her inner turmoil, she’d have rather not have found out what they thought on the matter.

Soon enough, the last trees before the open fields came into view. A few birds flew out of Eletha’s way as she hopped onto one last pebble and then onto a tree branch. She climbed a tall pine tree halfway to its top and looked around in all directions.

It didn’t take her long to find the old human she’d broken the pact of neutrality for. Berrick.

He sat on a rock near the edge of the Oakmother’s forest, looking at nothing. He was just on the human side of the border. There was another meat-man next to him, a dark-haired man around middle age, and on the ground next to that one lay Sam, dead.

Eletha smiled. A dead meat-man really was a pleasant sight, regardless of the circumstances under which it came to be so. Perhaps she was being too hard on herself.

She jumped off the tree she stood on and made again for the direction of the border.

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Before the two living meat-men could spot her, she took her bow into her hands, nocked an arrow, and shot it swiftly into the ground before their feet. It flung a clump of dirt into the air, making a little brown cloud.

The younger meat-man yelped, jumping back, but Berrick only turned his head to calmly look at the arrow.

“Relax,” Eletha heard him say. “It’s just a ‘hello’. We’re still on our side of the border.”

“H-how can you be sure?” the younger meat-man asked. “That was really close!”

Eletha nocked another arrow. She let it loose, and it whistled a finger’s width from the man’s right ear.

Allowing herself a smile at the pleasant sight of their fear, she put her bow away and hopped towards the meat-men.

“Because if it wasn’t, that would have gone between your eyes,” Berrick said, rising to his feet while the younger man cowered. “Trust me, Teven. Dryads don’t miss. She just wants us to know she’s coming.”

Eletha took a few more steps forward, then stopped by the last tree before the end of the sacred forest. The two meat-men finally saw her.

“Hello again, Eletha,” Berrick said. He looked her up and down, eyeing the layers of fresh leaves and flowers she’d recently allowed to spread over her body. “You look good and healthy. Pella must be doing your heart tree well ... She was the girl, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Eletha grimaced, realizing she should never have told the human her name. She remained quiet, eyeing the corpse lying on the ground beside the young and cowardly dark-haired man.

“I promised him to you, provided he turned out to be our enemy,” Berrick said, pointing at the corpse with his feet. “Turned out he was. A bandit, sent to poison our well and get people to leave the village with money on them to buy medicine. He was responsible for Pella’s death.”

Eletha blinked.

“Ah … You don’t really care, do you?” Berrick asked, sighing and looking her up and down. “Us meat-men are all the same to you, aren’t we?”

Eletha shrugged.

“That’s okay. In any case – will you shoot Teven if he moves forward a few paces to bring you the corpse?”

Eletha thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes,” she said.

In the knee, she thought, because she was feeling generous, but she didn’t say that part out loud.

“Alright then,” Berrick said. “I lift the law of trespass for you. Come get the poisoner yourself.”

Eletha stepped past the last tree and the border towards the two humans. The younger one, Teven, took a step back whenever she took one forward. Avoiding a patch of dandelions, she hopped onto a pebble just in front of the corpse. Seeing it closely, it looked … ravaged. Its fellow humans had hurt it quite thoroughly before killing it.

After a moment’s thought, she grabbed an arrow from her thigh and stuck it into the corpse’s ribcage. With any luck, any sisters that’d perhaps see the thing would assume she had been the one to kill it.

A trickle of blood spurted into the air and covered her hands. She hoisted the body onto her shoulder, turned around, and moved back towards the forest.

“There’s more of them if you want,” Berrick said, behind her. “This killer’s crew is still out there. We know where they are hiding, now. We from the village are no warriors, but … You could take them all. You dryads could have lots more to nourish your heart trees, Eletha.”

Eletha stopped for a moment, considering what he was offering, then turned towards Berrick again. “Dryads don’t get involved in human affairs,” she said.

“But you could,” he replied. “You’d benefit from it. As would we; you’d be saving our lives, but … you could make twenty more dryads, at least. And we’d agree to move the border, give you plenty of space for them. Anything you want. We just need your protection from these bandits.”

Eletha grimaced. She’d heard that humans occasionally warred amongst themselves, like colonies of ants. The Oakmother had mentioned it when she was a child, sleeping in her sapling heart tree. Forests of dryads often grow where once humans fought great battles, she’d said.

So why not benefit from it? Perhaps it’d be a good idea. Still, she shook her head, unsure. Perhaps she didn’t see the whole picture.

“I’ve already helped you once,” she said to the human, “and even that was probably too much. Anything more is up to the Oakmother.”