The day had passed in a haze. Erin was no medical expert, but he reckoned he was likely in shock, whatever the hell that meant exactly. Sure, being held prisoner by a cannibalistic witch would be enough to shake any guy, and he knew the memory of the farmer being roasted over the fire was one that would not quickly leave his mind. Yet, it was the face of Dannu, contorted in a grotesque grimace as the wood had crushed his bones, that floated before his eyes.
It was his fault and as much as he wanted to be excited about unlocking the ability to use some sort of magic, knowing he’d killed the soldier in the process made the victory taste like ash in his mouth.
Blinking away the ghastly vision, Erin focused on the task at hand - putting one foot in front of the other as they trudged back to camp. After Jasper had left them, the patrol had ventured back to the small village with the rescued farmer’s wife in tow.
Erin had thought that would be at least one bright spot in the day, but when the mother was reunited with her child and sister, there were more tears than cries of joy. He supposed it made sense; Ikkaril - their father, their husband - was gone, never to return again and for the small farming family, it was a loss not merely of a loved one, but of their entire way of life, for there was no way the widow would be able to maintain the farm on her own.
Moved by pity, Erin had promptly donated a large chunk of the small stash of coin he’d managed to compile from the limited scout pay. The grateful tears in the woman’s eyes had moved a few others in the patrol to pitch in - most notably the captain, whose contribution more than doubled the rest put together. It would get them through the winter, and perhaps even the following year. After that, Erin could only hope they’d be okay. I did what I could, he consoled himself.
When they finally made it back to camp, Erin headed straight for his tent. Despite his exhaustion, despite the guilt he felt over Danny’s fate, despite the sobering scene with the mother and her daughter - none of it was quite enough to wholly quench the spark of excitement that still burned in the pit of his stomach. After months of feeling like a failure, he’d used magic, real magic. Surely, I can get a class now.
He hastily stripped his armor and gear off and performed the maintenance required by the scouts in the most perfunctory manner possible. And then, his mind abuzz with the possibilities, he sat down to meditate.
That was easier said than done, though. Meditation wasn’t exactly a skill they taught you in elementary school, and even if it was, Erin was a dude with ADHD stuck in a world that definitely didn’t produce his meds. Focusing was easier said than done, and despite his efforts to visualize a serene pond on a summer day, his mind flitted to and fro like dragonflies over a lily pad. And then, without quite realizing it, sleep slipped over him.
Erin had never lucid dreamed before. Like most people, when dreams came to take him, he was a prisoner quite unaware. Yet, as Erin took in his surroundings he could only come to two conclusions: either he had been stolen away to another world or he was dreaming. There was a third possibility too, but he refused to even countenance the ridiculous thought.
He was standing in a forest. The trees around him were enormous, not quite large enough perhaps to challenge the redwood trees he had seen on one of only two vacations he’d ever gotten to go on - his mother had somehow snagged a rich guy for a change - but still far larger than any other tree he’d seen on earth.
Perhaps due to their size, the trees were situated further apart than usual, providing plenty of open space between their trunks and the canopy above was surprisingly sparse, allowing copious amounts of light to pour down from the heavens.
The sun beat down on him, a halo of light around his head, but there was little warmth in it. Unlike the sun he knew from Earth or Corsythia, this sun was pale and weak, an almost silverly light whose beams felt cooler than he’d have guessed.
All of this, he could perhaps have explained away. Maybe he’d been teleported into a forest. Maybe it was far enough north or south that the sun seemed different. But what he couldn’t explain, was the snow.
The forest was covered in a dazzling blanket of white that clung to every limb and leaf of the mighty trees. It was a thin blanket, little more than an inch or two that had draped itself across the forest like a satin tunic, yet the snow was still coming. Erin would have said it was falling, if not for the fact that the snow seemed to be flying up into the sky, in a never-ending flurry of flakes that somehow failed to noticeably deplete the thin layer covering the ground.
If that wasn’t enough to convince him he was dreaming, any final doubts disappeared as one of the trees began to move - and not from the simple swaying of the branches in the wind. No, with a sudden heave, the tree dislodged itself from its foundation and it roots tore free from their earthen sheaves. The top-heavy tree nearly fell on its side as it lurched forward, born aloft on a mass of roots that wriggled like tentacles, but it righted itself and charged toward him.
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Erin was rooted to the spot as the impossible creature bore down on him. It was just a dream; there was no real danger to him - or at least that’s what he tried to tell himself. A root shot through the air and arced straight toward his heart. Though made of naught but wood, its end was as sharp as a rudimentary spear, and Erin suddenly found himself able to move.
He fled deeper into the forest as the spear impaled the ground directly where he had been standing. The crunch of his footsteps against the snow sounded as loud as gunshots - the only sound in a forest otherwise drenched in silence. Even the rampaging tree that charged after him made no noise as it bulldozed through the foliage, only him.
As he ran, the trees around him seemed to awake. He danced from side to side as roots jutted from the ground before his feet, graven spears thrust toward his heart, while others sought out his ankles. He ran faster than he ever had before, his body driven forward by the sheer panic in his heart - and yet he ran with an ethereal grace hitherto undreamed. His foot always fell in the right place, slipping free of the bonds that sought to snare him and nimbly dodging the deadly spikes.
The forest fled him behind and, slowly the rampaging tree was left behind in his wake. Yet Erin did not stop running. Breaking free of the trees, he raced across an open field. Its tall grass swayed and shook in a wind he could not hear, its blades encrusted with hoary frost that sliced viciously at his ankles, but he did not stop - not until he’d reached the end of the field and a sudden, gaping chasm yawned beneath him. His arms windmilled as he tried to stop, but the ethereal grace that had born him thus far abandoned him. Slipping on the hoar frost, Erin plunged over the edge.
The chasm seemed endless, plunging to depths that made the Grand Canyon look like the grand ditch. It was an impossible distance and Erin’s screams were lost in the sheer size of it, swept away by the silent, bitter wind.
But his fall was arrested almost as soon as it had begun. No sooner had he plunged over the edge and perceived his doom than his progress was reversed. For a second, Erin thought he was saved as he shot back toward the hoary plains, only to leave them behind in turn as he rocketed up into the sky.
He soared above the forbidding forest and then began to descend. The winds beat furiously at him as he fell, pulling him with a force far beyond what human bodies should have to endure - and far beyond terminal velocity, for he was not merely falling. Pulled along by an unseen power, Erin flew beneath the sickly sun. He fell beneath the tree line, his trajectory narrowly missing one thick limb after another, and then plowed into the ground.
He rolled across the frozen grass like a ragdoll, inertia sending him spinning across the ground far further than one would guess, only to be stopped by as a foot caught him in the chest. Grunting in pain, Erin rolled away, his hands balling into fists to protect himself. He lashed out with a quick haymaker, and a second later jumped back, wringing his hand in pain. “What the hell?”
He froze as he finally processed the being attached to the foot. Before that day, Erin hadn’t thought it possible to describe a tree as sexy. Sure, it was wood, and you could perhaps wring a few puerile jokes out of that, but that’s not what he would call sexy.
The tree that had cracked his knuckles, however, possessed a decidedly humanoid body. The colors of its skin bore a marked resemblance to birch bark, and judging from how badly his fist echoed, it was every bit as unyielding. The body, however, was that of a woman. Long black hair, interwoven with leaves of autumn plumage, cascaded down her front and back, hanging as far as her waist, but it was the only covering she had. Erin quickly averted his eyes, feeling the warmth on his cheeks.
The woman - the dryad? - cocked her head to the side with a curious light in her eye. “Where did you come from, little sapling?”
“You can talk?” With the grace of an orator, Erin blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.
“Of course?” Amusement played across her features. “But that was not an answer to my question.” Her hand reached out and encircled his wrist. Her skin was as rough as it looked, but her touch was gentle. Her eyes seemed to dim as she touched him and she let go of his wrist after a brief moment.
“You are very far away, little sapling - far, far from home. No wonder you cannot hear us when we speak.”
Erin frowned, not understanding what she was saying. “We?”
She gestured to the trees around them. “Our brethren. You and I may walk like men, but most cannot unmoor themselves. Yet they can speak, for those who listen.”
“Um, I think you have me confused with someone else,” Erin managed to stammer out. “You and I are not the same. Surely you can see that. See?” He held his arm against her speckled flesh.
The tree woman smiled. “Tis true, you are but a shadow of my glory, but a little sapling you are nonetheless.” An almost tender look stole across her face as she placed her hand on his heart, followed by a wave of pain. Staggering back, Erin tore at the leather armor covering his body, sure he’d been mortally wounded somehow. There was nothing there, though, save for a small patch of flesh that now matched hers.
The woman smiled serenely down at him, seemingly unaware of his reaction. “That is all I can do for you, little sapling, at least for now. Perhaps when you grow stronger we can talk again.”
Massaging the painful patch on his chest, Erin tried to grab hold of her, but the world around him grew fuzzy. The snow falling upward accelerated, turning into a whirlwind of ice and frost that tore him free from her gasp and bore him up into the heavens.
He lurched awake with a gasp, which was quickly followed by another as the throbbing pain in his chest made itself known. Examining his skin, he was relieved to find that the patch above his heart hadn’t been transformed into bark - and yet, a giant circle of red remained where the dryad had placed her hand. Was it real? He shied away from the question immediately, afraid of the answer that came to his lips.