Zaer sat awkwardly in the Witch’s hut, fixed on a small wicker chair. His pack lay next to the door, but he kept his sword leaning on the table next to him. The Witch placed a pewter cup on the table in front of him. The steam that rose from its top called to Zaer, who had been out in the cold for days. There was no need to poison him at this point, he imagined. If the witch wanted him dead, he was sure she could accomplish that on her own. He took a sip of the earthy tea in front of him, scanning the room as the Witch sat. It was surprisingly roomy for how small it had appeared on the outside. Zaer wondered if khor had made it that way, or if perhaps he was simply a poor judge of appearances. From where he was sitting, he could see a small kitchen area, complete with hanging herbs and dried meats. Behind him was a door that he had not seen opened. The Witch took a sip of her own drink, her eyes flashing dangerously. She sat elegantly, much more respectfully than Zaer would have imagined a Forest Dweller to sit.

“Witch,” he asked. “What is your name?” She drew a deep breath in.

“Winry,” she said. Zaer felt the weight of the name, a certain power that implied it hadn’t been spoken in years.

“I am Zaer. Zaer Flyyn.” Zaer sat up a bit straighter, bringing importance to his otherwise insignificant name.

“Pleasure.” Winry’s eyes continued to study him. “What brings you to these woods, Zaer?”

Should I lie? He thought. He settled in the middle. “A new life,” he said. “The life of my father is not the life for me.” She seemed surprised by this answer.

“And so you come here in search of what is the life for you. Touching.” She absentmindedly ran her finger around the rim of her cup. “I know what it is to be lost,” she said. “And I know what it is to be afraid. Do not fear me, young Zaer. I am powerful in the ways of khor, but I only seek peace. I am telling you this because these woods are a refuge for me. I am bound to them, and I will defend them if needed. Do you understand?” Her look continued to burn with intensity. Zaer nodded in response, unsure of what to say. She smiled, a radiant smile which relaxed Zaer. He had even forgotten his sword at his side, which rested against the table precariously. “Excellent,” Winry said. He stood, taking Zaer’s empty cup from him. “I have extra lodging in a shed outside. You may rest there tonight and continue your travel in the morning. You will find rations inside as well, should you find yourself hungry.”

“Why are you so kind to me?” Zaer asked. “I was always told witches are servants to Dark Deities.”

“To be candid,” Winry said. “I do feel for you. In addition to that, however, I must prove to you that I am a peaceful Forest Dweller. I do not want you telling the tale of a devilish woodswitch in your travels, I have experienced that enough in my day.” Winry walked to the kitchen, placing the cups next to a large basin at the edge of the room. She waved her hand over it, and the basin filled with water. Zaer held his amazement in favor of curiosity.

“It’s happened before? But your house still stands.” Winry walked back to the table, placing her hands on its surface.

“This one, yes. This was not always my home. I once lived across the Kingdom, in a village called Novus. It is near the Orian Grasslands, if you’re familiar. I was a simple girl, fresh in the ways of witchcraft. I bound myself to the land there, not just drawing power from the natural world but also feeding it. I used my own lifeblood to grow the forest around me, and it began to prosper. Soon, though, the villagers discovered my power. My life force was feeding the forest, but they had crops that my power simply would not extend to. For a long time, I held myself hidden in the forest, satisfied with my isolation and with a heart flooded with kindness. Once they found me, they exploited my powers for themselves. The powers of nature at my command, and they used me as their fertilizer.” The flickering candlelight in the room began to dim, Winry’s emotions seemingly sapping the energy from the flames. She took a deep breath, and the candles returned to their natural luminance. “Eventually the population of the village became too vast, and even my power was unable to feed them all. They turned on me, burning down my home and attempting to enslave me for my ability. Luckily, a group of powerful travelers rescued me. They struck down my captors, unleashing the fury of the heavens and restoring the forest to its natural state. My heroes continued on their way north, and I moved here on a rumor that I may see them again.” She looked down at the table, and Zaer could practically see the memories flooding in her eyes. Her pain filled the room, expanding into the air.

“And have you?”

“I think they left this area long ago. I did learn the name of my savior, though. Saul Weiger, a shaman. So I’ve heard, anyway. He lived south of here, in the Woods of Firyyn. I sometimes commune with the Satyrs residing in Oliveseed. They claim that he once purified a great evil that dwelled within their land.”

Purified? Zaer thought. This could be what I am looking for.

“Where did he go from there?”

“Southeast, from what the forest creatures tell me. You seem to have quite the interest, young Zaer.” Her eyes narrowed. Could she know what he had done?

No, he thought. It wasn’t me. Whatever that was… It wasn’t me. He straightened further in his chair. “Just a passing curiosity.”

“I see,” she said. She appeared pensive, as though there were thousands of things to say and yet she could not formulate their structure. “Whatever the case, I have a vested interest that Saul return to these woods.”

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“You seem to trust him greatly, having met him only once,” Zaer said.

“I’d like to think I can trust you as well,” she replied. “Sometimes you can get a sense about people. Especially as someone versed in khor. For example, I sense something within you, Zaer.” Her gaze was solid. It burned through Zaer and ground against his bones.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not clear to me, but I can see that your intentions are good. That said, there is a darkness within you. For how long it has dwelt there, I do not know.” She turned away from him. “Perhaps it is time to rest for the night. See me before you go in the morning.” She stood, gesturing towards the door. Zaer stood, taking his sword by the sheath.

“Winry?” he said. She turned slightly, not enough to see her face. “Thank you.” She bowed her head, and with that he walked back out into the night air, slipping his pack over his shoulder. Zaer didn’t sleep peacefully that night, despite laying on a bed for the first time in days. Most of the night was spent gazing at the ceiling, thinking of the future. The tale that Winry had told him gripped his mind, as well as the darkness she sensed within him. He wondered if she was the first to see it within him, or if he held it there for years before anyone could realize just how tainted he was. That is when he noticed the light outside. A pale green glow filtered its way between cracks in the wooden door of the shed. Zaer peeked out through one of these cracks to see the source of the glow: Winry. She sat crouched by the large willow tree that suspended leaves over the house, the glow emanating from her hands. Zaer heard the sound of cracking wood, and the tree began to straighten, standing just a bit taller. With a flicker, the light began to fade as the tree returned to its resting place. Winry lowered her head, stood, and walked back into the house.

The morning came quickly after that. Zaer opened his eyes, seeing the soft morning light filter through the cracks of the door. He could hear from outside the playing of a pan flute, the sharp tones piercing him alert. He creaked open the door to see a remarkably strange sight. Winry sat on a small stool near the edge of the mushroom farm, and she was smiling. Her long hair was tied above her head and her feathered coat glinted in the sunlight. In front of her were two Satyrs, dancing on their cloven feet and blowing into pan flutes. The sound was sweet, and Zaer actually felt invigorated by the tune. Could this be Satyr khor making him feel this way? Zaer stepped out of the shed as the two finished their song. He clapped his hands, a show of appreciation that did not go appreciated. The Satyrs scrambled, rushing behind Winry. The smaller of the two climbed onto the back of her friend, who cowered behind Winry’s stool. Each Satyr was at most three and a half feet tall, and they moved gracefully over the grassy floor. Winry stood.

“It’s alright,” she said. “This is Zaer. He is passing through. You two are safe.” The Satyrs slowly clopped closer to him, examining him. Zaer had left his weapon and pack inside the shed, and his wiry frame was doubtful to be threatening. He gave a nervous smile.

“He don’t look like no adventurer,” the larger Satyr said, stroking his goatee. “He look like a fishman.”

“He’s just a boy!” said the smaller Satyr. He hopped over to Zaer, examining him. The small Satyr slowly said his name, “Za-er.” She let out a giggle. “Call me Suda!” She said. “That’s my brother, Pin. He looks big and scary but he’s a softie.” Zaer suppressed a laugh. He had never seen a creature so non-threatening. Pin straightened his back.

“So you’d be done botherin’ little Winry here,” Pin said. His eyes narrowed.

Little Winry? These Satyrs are two feet shorter! Zaer tilted his head, saying, “I don’t mean to be a bother.”

“You aren’t, Zaer,” Winry said. “Pin is… suspicious of strangers. Sometimes rightfully so.”

“Yeah,” said Pin. “So you can rightfully scram!”

“No!” Suda exclaimed. “He’s gonna fix the tree! Mida saw it in her vision. He don’t look like a mage though…”

“Fix the tree?” Zaer asked. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Never you mind, Zaer,” Winry said. “You’d best be on your way. If you travel southeast, you’ll hit Oliveseed by nightfall. From there, you can take the road north straight into the Arlaiin Empire- I’m sure you’ll find your purpose there.” Winry dusted off her coat, glancing pensively at the willow tree.

“I saw you last night,” Zaer said. He heard the blood pump around his ears. “The tree is dying, isn’t it?” Winry looked at him. She closed her eyes for a moment, before reopening them with a stern look on her face.

“It is.” She placed a hand on the tree’s trunk. The leaves seemed to sway faster in the wind. “And the forests with it. When I came here, these woods were dead and barren. It’s how I knew that I was supposed to be here, and that my lifeblood was meant to fuel the life of the forests. The tree is the center of the forest, and when it dies, the land will return to its barren nature.”

“Can’t you just regrow the forests like you did the first time?” Zaer asked.

“These things take time,” Winry responded. “Time that the creatures living here don’t have.” Zaer became acutely aware of the sounds of the forest- not just the wind flowing through the leaves, but the sounds of birds, frogs, and countless other forest creatures.

“They’ll all die without the forests,” Zaer said.

“Correct. Another reason I was hoping to find Saul Weiger. He possesses an item of great power- a stone imbued with the power of the Gods. It is what allowed him to regrow the forests in Novus, and what will breathe new life into the tree.”

“I wonder…” Zaer approached the tree. He didn’t know what he was doing exactly, but he felt pulled to it. It was as though he could see the lifeblood of the tree, weakly pulsing. He laid his hand against it. Winry’s eyes widened.

“What are you doing?!” Zaer closed his eyes and let the feeling at the pit of his stomach free. He felt his arm burn, as though he were being stabbed with hundreds of pins. Blood beaded from hundreds of minute passages in his arm, flooding over his hand and rushing into the tree. Zaer could hear it creak. The tree stood taller, much taller than he had seen it the night before. The leaves became vivid, the bark a healthy brown with moss that began to flood over its surface. Zaer let go, his head spinning. He felt incredibly weak, his blood having drained into the tree. He looked down at the skin on his arms, once a deep and vibrant chestnut, now pale and tight against his muscle. He looked at Winry and the Satyrs, whose expressions all verged on shocked, and gave a soft grin before falling unconscious at the base of the tree.