> "Do it, you're ready," urged the dryad, her eyes luminous with encouragement.
>
> Parry almost lost concentration under her sun-strong smile. He made himself look down, then tightened his grip on the beet greens and willed the magic to grow.
>
> Reincarnation into infancy was miserable. These last three years had been a study in frustration, boredom and discomfort until he escaped the farmhouse and met the dryad. Now he took every opportunity to toddle away from his aunt, slip out a window or door and vanish into the grove by the creek.
>
> She was always there, never straying from the quaking aspen that was her home, her soul and her charge. She was a fairy godmother to him, almost literally, with her gentle, natural warmth and aura of soft earthen magic. She told him stories, imparted lessons, kept on him a watchful eye and tender hand. She smelled like springtime and lily ponds.
>
> Parry had lived scores of lifetimes but couldn't entirely handle his memories or knowledge, not with so young a body and mind. The world was out of proportion, out of scale, his grasp was always fumbling both physically and mentally. His very ability to concentrate was underdeveloped. This made him a mercurial child prone to tantrums and melancholy. He suffered long periods of confusion that bubbled up into anxiety, while his sleep was punctuated by nightmares of overload, as his infant brain seethed with too much experience.
>
> The dryad's company soothed him, but more, it gave him access to an aspect of this world he'd not yet encountered. Nature magic was new to him, and she was guiding him in ways no mortal could. This calmed him, reduced the fear he was wasting years stuck in an infant body, missing events he knew he ought to capitalize on, all of which were far away and unreachable. But this life was no waste, not if he could use it to build new skills and master new magics.
>
> She taught him how to tame.
>
> "I can't keep the friendliness in the leaves, it doesn't wanna stick!" Parry looked up at her for guidance, fighting tears, gripping the beet greens so their scent sunk into his skin.
>
> If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
>
> "Don't force it, dear," her voice was wind in branches, gentle immortal patience. She shifted her gaze over to the brown and white rabbit nibbling at grass just a few yards away. "You can't will someone to be your friend, you must offer friendship of your own. The magic can only tell them your intent."
>
> Parry held the greens towards the bunny while he tried not to "force" the magic. He wanted to pet it. He wanted it to accept him and be his friend, follow him around and sleep curled up against him. The magic faded further.
>
> "It's not working, I'll never get to pet him!"
>
> The dryad stepped on soundless soles around him in a strange ellipse, half observation, half ritual. "If you only think about what you want, it won't work. The leaves aren't payment, this is not a contract. What does the rabbit want?"
>
> "He wants the leaves?"
>
> "She wants the leaves. Why?"
>
> "Rabbits think they're yummy, they like the taste."
>
> She nodded but took it further. "A full belly means health and energy, and that means safety and security. The ground offers that to the rabbit. You need to offer that. Offer thought and protection. Don't attempt merely to gain, even if you're sure they'll accept your gift. Offer to offer, as the sun warms from above. Offer to offer, as the rain falls. Offer to offer."
>
> Parry sat hard, knowing the grass stains would anger his aunt. He held the beet greens out, silencing his internal 'here, bunny bunny, come get the yummy leaves!' Instead, he started thinking, 'these are for you, let's be friends.'
>
> The rabbit looked up, catching something, maybe the scent of him, maybe the scent of tamer magic. It didn't speak to Parry, not in words, but there was a thought, 'Your leaves, you eat.' The shock of communication almost sent the boy into a fit of giggles, but the adult part of him tempered the surprise and pushed him to take the conversation seriously.
>
> He tried to think, 'My belly is full, you can have these, two full bellies, safe and secure, together friends.' It was more feeling than thinking, but however he managed it, the creature hopped over and started eating the greens. The faint spark of magic passed from the leaves into its eyes.
>
> "It worked! I tamed a bunny rabbit!"
>
> The dryad--and she would never let him name her--gave a laugh like bubbling water. "You didn't tame it, you made friends. It's the first step."
>
> His smile was angelic as he gently pet the small thing, who ate the offering and looked at the world with trembling eyes. The world was full of danger, it was good to have made a friend.