Once inside the sacred grove, the humans clustered around each other like a herd.

Dryads stood by the trees surrounding them, bows hanging over their shoulders, while others walked silently atop the tree branches above, watching for danger.

Eletha was among those on the ground, standing behind everyone and guarding the entrance to the grove. May stood to her left, idly smiling at the humans and making strange gestures towards one of the males.

She’d be sure to get one of their dead. She always did.

To Eletha’s right, a pile of dead tree trunks and branches littered the ground, ready for the humans' grubby hands and cart.

Their dead for ours—the words of the accord.

Up ahead, ten dryads past Eletha, the Oakmother stepped out of her heart tree and walked over to the group of humans. A cloudy mist spread behind her, as it always did.

“Berrick,” she said. “It’s good to see you again.”

A short, old, and hairless man stepped out of the group of humans and went to stand before her. The human’s leader, for the last twenty or so years.

“Vephena,” he said, reaching out to her and clasping her hand. “It hasn’t been that long—two months, maybe. We come bearing gifts. Offerings.”

The Oakmother smiled. “I can see that. We have gifts prepared for you as well.”

“We’ll be grateful for them. We might be in the south, but still … The air is turning cold, and winter is coming sooner than we’d like.”

“Sooner than anyone would like, apart from the evergreens.”

“Quite possibly. You would know better than we. So – shall we get this started? There’s something I urgently need to discuss with you later, and it looks to me that everyone is already in place.”

“By all means.”

A wind picked up then, rustling the leaves of the great oaks in the grove, carrying a whisper: “Everyone quiet now. It is time for the ceremony. Maylissena, stop making a fool of yourself. Stand still and silent. Honor the dead.”

“Alright then,” the human named Berrick said, looking around. “Oakmother, Vephena, we come to you on this day in peace to honor a bargain once struck. “May your goddess Phosyphia bless us, may our patron god Vifafey honor you, and may all the other gods bear witness to the harmony between us.”

“To life,” the Oakmother said.

“And to peace,” replied the human. “I offer the bodies of our four recently dead. Their names were Jon, Terril, Leyn, and Pella. May they all rest in peace.”

The Oakmother nodded at Berrick, stepped past him, and slowly headed towards the cart. The cluster of other humans parted before her. Most were silent and solemn, while others openly wept. None stood in her way, though—they had finally learned. The Oakmother arrived at the cart and knelt before it while Berrick caught up to her.

“May their spirits find the ways to the gods they favored, and their bodies nourish the earth,” the Oakmother said.

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

Berrick nodded. The Oakmother rose from her knees and inspected the dead humans on the cart. She crossed her fingers in the symbol of Phosyphia and blessed them, one by one. When she reached the fourth, she stopped.

“This one is young,” she said. “What happened to her?”

“Disease,” Berrick replied. “A sudden one. I’d advise you not to get too close ... or, at least, I would if you were human.”

“A shame that she suffered so young,” the Oakmother said, ignoring his warning. “May she … rest in peace, as you say.”

Berrick nodded, and the Oakmother blessed the girl. Then she turned to the group of humans standing around, silently gazing at them for a moment before raising her voice again.

“We dryads too grieve for your fallen friends. Until sundown, the law of trespass is lifted. Go, wander freely in our sacred forest. Find the places where you would lay these dead to rest, and revisit those that you have in the past.”

She lifted her hand into the air, veins of glowing green magic slithering down her arm. Then she looked towards the dryads. “Girls,” she said. “Help them find their way.”

“And make sure they don’t destroy anything.” Another whisper, carried on the wind.

The dryads nodded, then walked over to the humans with fake sympathy and smiles on their faces. Some of the humans merely said quick and solemn goodbyes to the corpses, then made their way to the pile of dead tree trunks and branches at the side of the grove.

Others wept, and others still – a group of four – picked up the dead, gently placed them over their shoulders, and made their way out of the grove. One of the four was a woman flanked by a little boy. She carried the body of the young girl. It appeared that many of the other humans avoided them, though they never quit reciting prayers.

May suddenly distracted Eletha with a wave of her hand. “I’ll see you later,” she said. “I’ve got my eye on that large one. If I can get him, I bet he’ll nourish my heart tree until spring.”

Eletha nodded and chuckled, watching her seed-sister run off to one of the other groups of humans, that which carried the body of a larger and fatter old man on his shoulder. She said something to them, held the hand of one of the elderly women, and led them all out of the grove, straight in the direction of her heart tree.

Once all four of the deceased and their families had departed, the remaining humans in the grove started to lift and carry the tree trunks and branches offered by the dryads to their cart.

Sam was among them. Eletha didn’t know why she’d bothered to remember his name and face, but it was something she noticed.

She quickly bowed to the distant Oakmother, who was talking to Berrick again, and left the grove, searching out the trail of the woman that carried the dead girl. That corpse was smaller. Fewer of her sisters would be vying for it.

She found them quickly … and really, it was no surprise. There were only two: the woman carrying the corpse and a young boy who was likely her son. Apparently, all the larger meat-men had left them behind. The boy looked to be about the same age as the dead girl, and his face somewhat resembled hers as well. He and his mother trod through the undergrowth, quietly mouthing prayers to their lesser meat-man god, Vifafey.

They trampled every plant in the undergrowth that was in their way – and it was apparent they had no idea where they were going.

The woman looked tired.

“So, you’re after the little one too, Eletha?” asked a soft, close voice.

Eletha turned around and saw Nelippe quietly approaching her. She gracefully cartwheeled and flipped atop the pebbles and air until she crouched by Eletha’s side – being a young dryad, she still favored wasteful and flamboyant movements.

“It looks like we are the only ones,” Eletha said. “How many of our sisters are competing for the large one?”

“The one Maylissena is targeting? Not many. They know not to compete with her – most are trying to get one of the other two.”

“And you, Nelippe? What brings you here?”

“My heart tree is small. I don't need quite that much fertilizer. Hey, what do you think about sharing the girl?”

“I’m not opposed to the idea … but at this rate, it seems the woman won’t make it to either of our heart trees.”

Nelippe smiled softly, gazing past Eletha at the human woman struggling to carry the little corpse. “Come sundown, then, the two of us might have more to share than just a little girl.”

Eletha had already allowed herself a smile before she remembered the Oakmother’s words. “Help them find their way.”

“I suspect that won’t happen,” she said. “The Oakmother is as serious as ever about this damned peace. Come, Nelippe, let’s play nice.”

“Urgh, did you just say ‘play nice’? So now you’ve been listening to Maylissena too? Go ahead if you want. I won’t play at anything with those meat-men.”

Eletha shrugged, then skipped ahead of Nelippe towards the humans.