YOU WILL NOT SLEEP HERE IN THIS DEN TONIGHT.

Dirt tried not to show his regret about that, or even feel it strongly lest Mother think he was trying to manipulate her. He wouldn’t dare, but it stung nonetheless.

Socks was having a great time, oblivious. Everyone wanted him to lift them up with his mind or create sparks. Five or six were actively trying to mimic him and learn how he did it, to no visible effect; the rest were so excited they kept running up to play, pretend-biting at his mouth and just generally raising a ruckus. There was so much barking that Dirt debated plugging his ears.

Dirt had wisely made his way to the edge of the den to sit down and relax, hoping to avoid getting stomped on or lit on fire, and he’d been mostly left to himself. Aside from Socks running over to check on him every now and then, or a pup coming by to sniff him to see where he’d been today, he just sat and watched, ignored. And that was fine. He still had plenty on his mind, and his brain was still tired and needed sleep. It was nice to watch Socks having fun with all the other pups, too. They could play with him in a way Dirt couldn’t, since they were his same size.

So where was Dirt going to sleep, if not here, he wondered? The sun had already set and it was starting to dim outside. Perhaps he would be wise to take the hint and leave now, while Socks was distracted.

His hand crept to the knife hanging under his armpit. He’d be fine alone if he and Socks had to spend a day or two apart. He could hide where big things couldn’t get him, and cut up any little things that found him. He could be just as ferocious as Socks was when he felt like it. He might even be able to make it to the forest in a day or two, if he could find the way. He wasn’t sure he could, but maybe he could get on top of something tall and see where it was.

Dirt spared the briefest glance at the rear of the den where Mother lay, ever terrifyingly huge and predatory. Even nursing ten pups at once she looked ready to strike. She wasn’t watching him, though. Her golden eyes darted from pup to pup, watching them all with a serious air about her. Or perhaps she just looked relaxed, but he couldn’t separate his fear of her from how she appeared to him.

She must have noticed Dirt being excited about the puppy pile and chosen to cure him of a false hope. She gave no clarification because she didn’t care how he felt about it, only that he knew the truth. Which, now that he thought about it, she did often.

Dirt stood, completely unsure how to proceed. Should he sneak out? Or should he say goodbye first and let Socks know why he was leaving? Because if Dirt made Socks mad at Mother, she might just prefer to eat Socks, smoosh Dirt like a bug, and be done with it. But he couldn’t lie to Socks. He simply couldn’t. It was unimaginable. He wasn’t even sure it was possible after melding their minds so many times.

Was she waiting to see who he’d side with? With her, lying to keep Socks out of trouble, or with Socks himself by being honest?

I AM NOT TESTING YOU. THERE IS NOTHING MORE ABOUT YOU I CARE TO LEARN. THE WAY IS NOW PREPARED. IF YOU WISH TO SAY GOODBYE, DO IT FROM YOUR DESTINATION.

Along with the words, Mother sent Dirt a clear image of himself hurrying out of the den and touching a particular root poking up out of the ground, just a short distance from the entrance.

It pained Dirt to leave like this, but disobeying Mother for even an instant would certainly pain him a lot more. He stood immediately and jogged out, just a bit faster than Mother’s image had shown him going, even though his feet had never felt heavier. His mind instinctively shied away from any feelings of injustice or indignation, instead turning to how lucky he was that Mother let him associate with Socks at all.

How must it look for her, he wondered, to have him in her den? Nothing else was allowed in. No birds, no critters big or small, not even bugs or plants. It was a place for wolves and wolves only. And he knew what he looked like through the wolves’ eyes, even how he smelled. A fidgety little thing, fragile and mostly useless, but sometimes interesting. A squirmy bit of moving grime clinging to her son, which he refused to part with. At least Dirt was slowly proving beneficial, helping Socks to learn things the other pups hadn’t figured out yet. Mother was probably annoyed, but she was being gracious for Socks’ sake. She’d even healed Dirt.

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And Dirt had almost resented her for kicking him out for a moment there. Almost, and the gods only knew what the result of that would be. He suspected she only needed the first excuse to be rid of him, and that’d be that. This must be the hard part of being a child—adult humans probably never had any difficulty mastering themselves. Dirt still needed practice.

CLOSE YOUR EYES BEFORE YOU TOUCH IT.

Dirt nodded, and shortly after, he found the little root Mother had shown him. It was a finger’s width and no longer than his hand, still young and tender green, poking up into the air.

He wasn’t sure what to expect, or how long Mother wanted him to hold onto it. Was he supposed to pull it up, maybe?

Dirt knelt and closed his eyes as instructed. He reached out and the instant his fingertip brushed against the root, a sudden full-body jolt yanked him hurtling forward with shocking speed, slamming him left and right as the path turned this way or that, all too fast for his mind to even process.

By the time he could scream, he’d already stopped moving. He was still kneeling, but he felt like his whole body had been filled with sand and water and shaken violently. Everything sloshed inside him, sharp pains everywhere.

He yanked his hand away and opened his eyes and didn’t find what he expected. It wasn’t the open field of trampled dirt and grass surrounding the den. He was back in the forest, kneeling in the soft black dirt, hidden by the ferns.

Astonishment kept him from breathing for a moment until he started gasping and coughing. He shot to his feet, then immediately fell over because he couldn’t keep his balance.

Dirt shook his head and got up more slowly. A hand gently gripped his arm, and he turned to see a beautiful girl his own age, all in green. Green hair, green eyes, skin the gray of bark, and little green leaves growing to cover her torso. Could it be—

“Home?” he asked aloud.

“Yes. Welcome back, Dirt,” she said. Her voice was soft and light, and she gave him a big smile that only looked slightly practiced.

“Home!” he shouted, suddenly overjoyed. He looked at her hand, still holding his arm. “Hey, you didn’t break it this time. Good job!”

“The Mother of Wolves has been instructive.”

“Really? Huh. That’s good. I’m glad she was. Oh, wow, I don’t think I’m okay.” The world spun around him, even though he tried to stand still. His knees gave out and he fell, slipping from Home’s grasp to collapse awkwardly in the black dirt. He almost tried getting back up but the world spun ever faster and he started getting nauseous.

Dirt tried to grab hold of the ground to keep from spinning, but it didn’t help because nothing was really moving. A moment later, he vomited, hard, tasting only acid and a bit of deer left in his mostly empty stomach.

“Sisters?” asked Home.

Dirt heard footsteps swishing through the ferns. Several sets of hands rested lightly on different parts of his body, but he was sure if he opened his eyes to see them, he’d vomit again.

“He looks unwell,” said a different tree-girl. Dryad. That was what Mother called them.

“The Mother of Wolves did not warn us about this,” said Home. “Let us view him.”

A rhythmic hum rose from the ground and filled him, reverberating deep within him, the old familiar pulse he knew from sleeping under the roots. His mana body reacted—that must be what it was—as the trees guided something around inside him, probing him to find out what was going wrong. It felt like a gentle massage, but from the inside out.

It was not long before the probing sensation faded, and shortly after that, the pulsing hum stopped.

“The Mother of Wolves says you will be fine in a moment. The fluids of your inner ear were unbalanced by root travel, but will naturally restabilize with time. She reminds us to be gentler with you,” said Home.

Dirt smiled despite how awful he still felt, wondering if she’d neglected to warn them on purpose. “That sounds like her.”

They kept their hands resting on him while he recovered, and from what he could tell, they held perfectly still, as unmoving as the trees they really were. He didn’t vomit again, but he did come close a couple times. He managed to hold it down, since he didn’t want to splash one of them.

Slowly, slowly, the earth stopped heaving and trying to throw him off it.

“Dirt, do you feel better now?” asked Home.

“Yes, I… Oh, wow. Gods in Glory, that was intense. But I feel a lot better now,” Dirt said. It felt strange to be using his voice so much, speaking aloud after so long.

He rubbed his eyes a bit, then opened them to see several more dryads kneeling over him, each one different. One had shorter hair, another longer. The shapes of their faces was different. They didn’t wear clothing, but neither were they naked. They were covered by little green leaves that grew almost like fur to hide their forms, some from the neck down, others from the chest down, and a few from the waist down.

They all had exactly the same smile, though. He was sure they’d practiced it.

Dirt grinned at that. They were already charming, he decided. He pushed himself up to his feet, then wiped his mouth and cheek to get the vomit off and cleaned his hands in the soil.

“Are you well now, Dirt?” asked Home.

“I am. Thanks. How did I get here?” Dirt supposed that if he couldn’t sleep on the puppy pile, this would be okay instead. He’d miss Socks tonight, but they’d be back together soon.

“We will discuss that and many other things. Come, let us walk together and see what I have to show you,” said Home, standing and holding out her hand for him to take. He did.