But there’s no one else around the small voice cried out.

“I know, but you can be the first. Think about it this way. You are afraid of being here by yourself, but what about the next plant or animal that comes along. Do you think they will be any more confident seeing a big strong oak tree they don’t know?”

I guess not.

“Exactly. But you, being that big strong oak tree, can be the friendly one. You can help make them feel brave, just like I am for you right now!”

I think I would like that, Wesley.

“I think you would, too,” Wesley said without moving his lips. green magic was the key to communicating with the small acorn in his calloused palm. The young druid stood in the center of a circle of ashes, the site of a forest fire. He wore earth-toned cottons in the form of thick brown pants and a thin light-green, buttoned shirt. A thicker brown vest sewn to mock the look of leather served as a layer of protection, and a roughed up brown, billed cap and a beat up messenger bag completed the look of the meek traveler.

He squatted down, sliding the bag to the ashes and digging inside with his free hand. He found a wooden trowel and began to dig a small hole.

“Alright, how does it look?” Wesley asked the acorn. It responded with an excited, childish giggle. Wesley set the acorn in the hole and pressed the soil over the top. He stepped back and looked down at the mound of charred soil. “Okay, now you have to work for me.”

Okay, I’ll try!

Wesley watched with a smile as little bits of dirt shifted and tumbled about to allow a small sprout to poke up into the open air.

Wow! It’s so empty. Is there anyone around?

Wesley frowned. “No one who is worth talking with, unfortunately. It’s all up to you, friend.”

What do you mean?

The druid looked over his shoulder to where a blackened stone sat in the charred clearing. A thick green moss was starting to grow around the northern face of the boulder, but Wesley had gone out of his way to ignore anything the moss had to say.

They hate you, the sprout said of the moss. Why, Wesley?

Wesley wanted to explain the Overgrowth to the sprout, but it was still at risk of falling to the sway of that fringe community. Talnorel needed this little oak to be the start of the new grove. When the wrath liches burned the last grove, killing the druid who kept it, she lost an entire communication node that connected much of the northern end of the continent.

Eighteen groves. Completely out of contact. And if the Overgrowth had access to those groves, it could be ages before contact could be established again, and the damage could be irreversible.

“Because of what happened to the grove here before. They’re still mourning,” Wesley said, choosing his words carefully. “Which is why they need you.”

Let me try to grow a bit more, then!

Wesley grinned and looked at the moss. Nice try. When he looked back to the sprout, it was now a sapling at least as tall as a small child.

Wow! I can almost hear the trees outside the clearing.

“That’s great! Can you grow any more today?”

I can try! I want to get to know my neighbors. The moss feels left out, though.

Wesley’s breath caught. “Don’t worry about them. Do you think you would be able to support them the way they need to be supported by yourself? After all, the trees on the edge of the clearing lost their friends here, too.”

That’s a good point. I don’t know anything about death. The sapling’s voice, or rather the analogue Wesley’s mind invented for it, was becoming more mature as it grew taller and thicker into an actual tree.

Wesley lowered some of the partitions in his mind to see if the oak was large enough to establish connection once again. He could hear murmurs from the edge of the clearing and they were becoming louder and clearer with every inch the oak grew. “You’re doing great, friend,” Wesley remarked as the oak began to crackle and pop with its growth, beginning to lose the fleshy, green nature of youth in favor of stronger wood.

I can hear them!

Wesley could, too. He sighed with relief. This was his seventh grove reclamation, but those last vital moments were always stressful. Even without an agent of the Overgrowth right beside him.

“Would you like to see if we can connect to the Verdant Stage?” Wesley offered.

I’m kind of tired, but I think we should try, the oak responded, its voice now that of teenager’s.

“Okay, if it gets to be too difficult, just let me know, okay? Do you know how to reach it?”

I think so.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“All right, let’s try.” Wesley closed his eyes, steadied his breathing, and reached out with his mind to the oak. Suddenly, he was present on the Verdant Stage, a large black void that smelled of dew and spring air. The oak stood in front of him manifest in the psychic space as a young, almost-human man clothed like a farmer. Everything about him, from his skin to the clothes he wore was a shade of green. The only thing that remained of his tree form was a head of hair made of oak leaves.

You’re a tree! the oak boy said with excitement.

Wesley laughed. “Not quite! It’s just the way you’re imagining me. Now, look over there!” Wesley said eagerly. On the fringes of the darkness stood more human-shaped figures. Some were buttercup yellows, rose-red, or goldfish-orange, but they were so numerous that the colors beyond the brightest were difficult to discern.

There are so many.

“And we can talk to all of them. Ready?”

Yes.

Suddenly, there was a rush within the void, an overpowering floral scent as the simple thought of networking with the minds of creatures connected by Green Magic manifested itself. Flowers, mosses, fish, deer, rushed past, all imagined by Wesley to be more human than plant or animal.

As the shapes whizzed by, they eagerly greeted the oak. The voices were all as different as every plant and animal on the continent, and some were noticeably more powerful than others, speaking with a profound confidence, and exuding a pressure that neither the oak, nor Wesley could match. Those were the nodes that this whole network hinged on; the first trees or shrubs or bear or moose that acted as the nuclei of a grove.

The crowds whizzed by faster and faster, growing more and more dense until suddenly a woman, twice as tall as Wesley stood between the two. The other shapes shuffled about to give them space.

She was colossal, even Wesley’s mind could not erase that fact. In her Verdant Stage avatar, she was a lithe, beautiful woman, with chestnut-colored skin and lichen-green hair that collected in pools at her feet, blending amongst the folds of a wonderful, deep green gown. Her long, pointed ears reached out from the sides of her angular head like branches.

Wonderful work, Wesley, she said, her voice filling the air warmly.

“Thank you, Treemother,” he said, bowing slightly to the woman.

Are you who I think you are? the oak asked in awe, mimicking Wesley’s display of courtesy.

Stand tall, my sons. You have done me a great service. It is I who should be bowing to you, she urged, bending at the waist. Yes, child, I am Talnorel, the Mother of the Forest.

But you’re so far away. I can see you right in front of me!

“The power of the Verdant,” Wesley said smiling.

Wesley is correct. With my touch and Wesley’s green magics you have grown much faster than your brethren, and with your maturity you have tapped into our community. You are safe here, and welcome.

You may feel as if you have grown up too quickly at times, the goddess continued. But do not fret. The Verdant are here. We have all lived enough lives together to more than help you through any problem that may arise. And we are here to help you with anything you need help with. The best part of the Verdant is that you are never alone.

The avatar of Talnorel approached the young boy and embraced him. Wesley could not imagine what their interaction must have been like within the oak’s mind, but the blushing grin from the oak proved that it had experienced something. Wesley smiled at the Verdant’s newest member.

Well, my sons, I shall let you return to the newest grove. And again, welcome. There was another surge of floral aromas and cheers from the druids, plants, and animals they passed on their way back to consciousness and with a sharp inhale, Wesley was standing in the shade of a tall oak tree.

I can’t believe I met her, the tree said with glee.

“Well, she is there for you if you ever need her,” Wesley assured. Suddenly, another voice clattered into his mind.

Wesley, someone’s coming. No, two.

“Two people?” Wesley offered, partly as a correction, partly as clarification.

Don’t know. Their walls are up.

Wesley began to panic. Normal minds can not partition well enough to go unidentified by green magic. “Come back, Lady.”

On the edge of the charred clearing, an orange splotch came into sight, rapidly coming into focus as it bounded on four legs toward Wesley and the tree. The fox, its three tails whipping about independently, looked up at Wesley with large, glistening eyes as it caught its breath.

Is something wrong? the oak asked, its voice spiced with concern.

“We’ll find out soon,” Wesley said, scanning the edge of the clearing where Lady

had run from. He probed the tree line for a nosey mind. He was unwilling to use the oak or Lady as a conduit for the search, trying to have as low of a profile in nature’s shared consciousness as possible. Lady let out an audible whimper as the tension grew.

“Wesleeeeey!” a voice suddenly carved loudly through the air, calling Wesley’s name in a mockingly matronly way. It was so loud and obnoxious that Wesley could not tell if it was within the Verdant or out loud until he noticed Lady’s ears immediately swivel. At the edge of the clearing, a shape was sauntering toward them.

“Duncan, I swear,” Wesley called out through his mind. “Why would you sneak up like that out here?”

“See if I could, why else?” the other druid replied, as he approached. Duncan was taller and stockier than Wesley, and his short beard was somehow tinged a slight green. “Lady almost caught me, too.”

Companions are not only good for finishing uneaten food, Duncan, Lady chided.

“I know, I know, Foxy,” Duncan said, waving her off. “Good work here, Wes. If you’re done, I’m starved. Was hoping we could go set up camp?”

“Sure thing,” Wesley said, hefting his bag back onto his shoulder. He looked up at the oak, and just as he began to give the tree his goodbye, the oak’s laughter permeated the psychic conversation space first.

“What’s so funny?” Duncan asked the tree.

Haha, nothing. Just something the moss said.

Wesley and Duncan looked at each other with narrow eyes. “Well, it was wonderful working with you,” Welsey said to the oak.

Likewise! And thank you for taking me to meet the Mother Tree.

“Like she said,” Wesley called as they began to walk away. “She is, I am, we all are here for you whenever you need us.”

Duncan, Wesley, Lady began to walk back toward the treeline, passing the moss-covered boulder. Lady sauntered away from the druids toward the stone, and with as close of a grin as she would make with her vulpine face, she kicked dirt onto the moss.