Down below and several yards away from the great treehouse known as Shashana, locals of the greenwood were meeting in a grotto of literal crystal blue water. Two dryads of maple and orange cedar hung their feet over the small waterfall, taking turns kicking in hopes of splashing a satyr sleeping across the pond. Fortunately for them, water there had lower gravity, and the sprinkles could reach. It was just a matter of time.

  "Alyah!" A voice entered the spot. It was D'artagnia, with Jermaine nestled in her bush sweater.

  "Jermaine has returned!" The cedar dryad cheered.

  "And also, I," D'artagnia said proudly.

  "Jermaine," the maple one called. "How did your welcoming go? Did you do the tornado?"

  The squirrel let loose an excited tangent of squeaks and quaas. The dryads listened intently, nodding to every chitter. The satyr awoke to the inspiring recounting from the rodent. With a huff and the snap of his paws, Jermaine was finished, and the small group erupted into a thunderous applause.

  "I love this little guy," cedar exclaimed. "We were correct to believe in him!"

  "Agreed," nodded the other dryad, showing moderate amusement. "Hey, remember when we had more to do?"

  Those words made the water run louder. The group was quiet, looking at each other like they had forgotten where they were. The maple woman had immediately regretted saying anything. Especially because it felt like a diminishing jab at Jermaine. The satyr scratched picked at his knotted hair, looking for his horns, chipped and shortened from previous scraping.

  "For the love of Mag Mill," he groaned, walking back to his napping spot. "Can we have anything? I'm not staying up if you're gonna do this."

  "But Sheq," D'artagnia spoke. "You've been sleeping for twelve years now. Maybe you can play a song?"

  "Meh," he brushed off, sinking back into the patch of grass molded by his shape. "I don't remember any."

  The plant people sat in a row, soaking their legs in the water. Jermaine jumped in to swim off his anxiety. The dryads stared at different spaces between the trees, trying to see something not too far, but thankfully obscured. Each of them pondering about the last song they heard Sheq play. They were always catchy, but none of them could remember a verse. Maple started this silence, and it couldn't be ignored now.

  "Should we," she timidly got out. "Maybe entertain the idea of asking Selly abou- "

  "She'll refuse," Sheq shouted from his comfortable position. "She refused before. All of us did. We put it in her hands, and we know her answer."

  With that, the mood felt somber. While the others looked down and Jermaine floated on his back, D'artagnia focused ahead in the dark of the woods. A dark that should not exist here. Her birch skin flaked with a shiver. A memory came to mind of chalk white grass and utter hopelessness. The world was shaking, she had fallen. Selly was screaming, but D'artagnia didn't know where. But approaching her was a haunting whine.

  It asked, De na siew ni?

  The peeling dryad shot her gaze to the water with the rest. She retrieved an acorn relative from her sweater and held them close to her cheek. She was sure they needed comfort.

  . . .

  "A pillow," said a disinterested Georgie.

  "Seriously?" Selly gasped; hands planted on her end of the sticky table. "You didn't even think about it!"

  "It was obvious," he rolled his eyes. "You said 'loses its head in the morning.' You get out of bed in the morning."

  Georgie was finally able to get a word through to the Circle Mother and explained that he was looking for permission to forage in Bantriaf. He asked in sylvan, sounding more elegant and respectful than how he actually felt. Selly ran her stained fingers through her tangled hair and offered a wager. If he could answer her three riddles, then she would grant his permission to speak with the plant of his choice. If he guessed even one wrong though, Georgie would leave and be banned until the end of the next full moon. However, because Selly was a sore loser, they were on their second rematch.

  "Then try this!" She challenged the potion vendor. "I can show you worlds despite my lack of eyes. No arms or legs, but I do have a spine. I have much to say without a mouth to speak. I carry the answers you- "

  "A book," yawned the human. "Books have spines. You should have rhymed something with vertebrae. People would first think of an animal."

  Selly was fuming, her face turning hot pink with a splash of beet red. He couldn't let him win, at least not three times over. The ninth time was the charm. Surely Fey riddles weren't passed around the material plane over the centuries. "What can be cracked, made, told and played?"

  "I heard this when I was nine," Georgie said, genuinely disappointed. "A joke."

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  "YOU'RE A JOKE!"

  "This game is a joke."

  "Hush up," the fairy barked. "I'm rusty! We haven't had visitors in a while, okay?"

  Georgie was kicking himself by that point. He prepared all the right sylvan to get a word in, and he got stuck with a manic Circle Mother for the theatrics. Meanwhile, Selly wished anybody else could have walked into her domain instead of this human. He was too rigid, dull and unamusing. When she felt his presence coming into the greenwood's range, she immediately found Jermaine. He had spent years on a stump, planning for their next visitor. He would forget to eat, refuse to sleep, all because Selly said he could coordinate their next welcoming. It was killing him, but the squirrel was happier than she'd seen in decades. It deserved awe and excitement, wonderment sailing through the clouds, enjoyment eating a beet that tasted like tangerines! Jermaine needed this and it was completely lost on this human. Selly had had enough; she wasn't going to let Georgie stay long any way. She made the rules here, and she could break her wagers if she wanted.

  Just as she was going to tell Shashana to send him to the exit, Georgie sighed, "Look, ne asorloga if things have been slow here. I'm not trying to be difficult. In fact, I brought something to trade."

  He produced the honey from his messenger bag and Selly swallowed her tongue. Her eyes were transfixed on the shade of purple, wondering the flavor.

  "I've heard in the past," Georgie took the opportunity. "That plum and lime honey is an ingredient for a popular beverage in the Wilds."

  "The Angry Sugarplum," the fairy drooled, reminded of her old lazy afternoon luxury. Laying in a floating hammock and passing by other fairies doing the same.

  "So you know it," Georgie grinned. "This is actually of a higher quality. The bees that made it drank nectar from a coastal flower. I'd be happy to give it to you in exchange for permission to search your forest and blessing to forage."

  The Circle Mother was a word away from sending that creep material boy out the door, but the jar called to her. She imagined the laughter of the animals and the dryads. Sheq wide awake and playing a song with his old pan flute. With that honey, Selly could provide a taste of better times. It had been so long, something old may taste new again. Besides, it sounded like this human was only looking for one plant and was admittedly astute. He would be gone in no time.

  "Alright then," she rose from her chair and fluttered over with a sticky hand out. "We have a deal, but on one condition. I will be guiding you the whole time. We will use tree passage for fast travel."

  Georgie was surprised by the fairy's flip into a negotiator. Her eyes may have been sleep deprived, but they were willing and for some reason determined. Georgie wasn't sure if it was a good idea to tell her that he didn't mind fast travel. So, he just gave his opened hand for her to shake his fingers.

  "Deal," he nodded.

  "Good," Selly said while flying to a wall in Shashana's treehouse to create a portal. It was then she realized something embarrassing. "By the way, I forgot to ask your name?"

  Georgie shrugged. "You're faster than I've been in situations like that. I'd rather not tell you if that's alright. I'm fearful of my name being claimed."

  The fairy said Shashana's name, opening the portal. Her back stayed facing the paranoid man. In a circle's domain it was the responsibility of the fairies to give a name to all things in nature. From the grass to the clouds, each was given names. This is the source of the fey's magic. They had no written spells to grow vines and create portals, just the name of a friend. Saying the name allowed the fey being to manipulate and alter something (or someone) however they saw fit. A strong enough fey could turn a ferret into a dragon if they wanted. Why Georgie was concerned was because if a material being were to be convinced into giving up their name, they too become tied to the fairy's magic.

  "I don't do that," she tensed up, struck by the flashbulb of a whimper that came to mind. A rickety whimper interrupted by uncontrollable clicking from the throat. Its voice, mistakable for something young and innocent until you got close. It asked, De na siew ni?

  "I'm sure," Georgie assured. "Just in case any other fairies hear- "

  "It won't be a problem," Selly cracked her voice asserting. "I promise, nobody will take your name. I promise it is safe with me."

  The young potion vendor could hear that she was offended, but she wasn't angry. There was a pain in her voice. It was definitely not something Georgie was equipped to handle. He considered waiting for something else to happen, but that's what got him into this in the first place. It would only get worse if he didn't.

  "My name is Georgie."

  Surprised, Selly said, "Really? That's very ugly. I definitely don't want it now."

  With that unnecessary criticism, the two entered the portal and Georgie's boots touched grass again. Immediately he was caught off guard by a flock of warblers taking flight in front of him.

  "WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!" They screamed, apparently capable of human speech. "FLY AWAY!"

  "Ignore that," Selly chuckled nervously.

  "I've been coming across a lot of talking birds lately," he muttered, thankfully misplacing his focus.

  "Very gifted singers," added the fairy, moving them along. "Anyway, we can start searching here. There's a variety of flowers and tree saps with medicinal uses. What are you looking for?"

  "I'm actually looking for a binder tree."

  Instantly, Selly's heart stopped. Her skin turned blue gagging on the lack of response. Of all the things this human could have asked for, it had to be a binder tree. These woods had a flower that could make someone lose weight pound for petal, but no. Bantriaf didn't have binder trees anymore. They were too deep in the forest; gone completely out of reach by that point!

  You boring spawn of a hag, Selly thought. You just had to be the one to walk in here.

  . . .

  At the grotto, the dryads debated on the next sea creature the clouds would change into. D'artagnia was adamant it would be an axolotl, but hung her head when it turned out to be another whale. Even the clouds were too bored to be creative. The others tried to laugh with her, but felt a similar disappointment.

  "De na raeweck ni...?"

  The group froze. Jermaine laid stagnant above the water, as even it was stilled by the unforgettable whimper that crossed their ears. Even Sheq snapped awake from his deep rooted bed of earth. The dryads pulled from the grotto, and the anxious squirrel jumped into D'artagnia's sweater to hide.

  "De na siew ni?" A rickety voice hummed through the air.

  The ones with blood, in that moment, felt it run cold. The maple dryad began to wilt at the top of her head. Nobody could move, no options of fight or flight, just fear. They waited, each forgetting the existence of the other and wondering if they heard what they heard. The tree line ahead whispered, begging them to witness what laid beyond the dark of the brush. Sheq arose from his spot to view the distance clearer. There was... a bend. The space between the stunned fey and the unknown depths of their home was bending.

  "SIEW NI!"