The Sanctuary Seed, a children's novel: The prologue consists of 13 chapters. Here are 9-13. To be followed by 7 magical realms, uplifting lessons, a conservation theme & epilogue.

The entire MS Word doc of the book yet written is also linked. It's really delightful. Be sure to visit Old Toad Tobias, boastful, a centuries-old toad who fancies himself King of Firefly Fernglen

The Sanctuary Seed - Chapters 1-13 [including new chapters 14-17 plus the beginning of the first realm, Moonhollow Woods]

Welcome to Færnlithæl, the ancient, mystical language of the sentient Trees of Firefly Fernglen

Chapters 1-8 are here:

Please note: Although I did consult with Anthropic’s Claude 2 LLM in the early planning stages of this book, and the images, the Færnlithæl constructed language, the Suno-created song samples of the language, and any lip sync animations of those samples, do involve my engagement with AI, the actual book is 100% being written by me.

Chapter Nine

Elder observed the Missus Branchwell approaching him and he instantly detected her unease. Juniper was not one to convey even so much as a trace of disturbance lest it was related to a perceived misalignment of her broom heads or her not having retreated to the Roundhouse before the Sun had commenced too much of its dusky descent. And yet, she came bearing no broom and the sun was still high in the sky. So, Elder tapped his Tree chin momentarily in pondering when might have been other occasions he’d witnessed the Missus Branchwell so addled. Aye, it was that time when Willow, as a younger sapling, would not sit still on her stool during the summoning of Lux upon the opening of a particular Lighting of the Way Festival. And so, Elder concluded, the matter leading Juniper to trundle most troubledly across the courtyard had to be one involving her children.

“Elder Elm,” she began, “I bring news which may both worry and anger you.”

“Shall we take a stroll beyond the gate, Missus Branchwell, whilst we chat?” offered Elm. He considered it best not to display any sign of alarm. Although he did realize he hadn’t been beyond the Fernglen gate in quite some time. But it might do him some good to stretch his knotty old Tree legs.

Juniper considered whether to inquire of Elm if he felt hardy enough to walk such a distance but then elected to nod in agreement instead. And as they passed through the gate it occurred to her she hadn’t ventured beyond it in quite some time. Her Tree children used to ask her to accompany them on their walks. But she hadn’t been of a mind to do so for a long while now.

For indeed, what was beyond the Fernglen that held interest or needed her attention? All the living things in the forest beyond could take care of themselves quite nicely. And nothing ever really changed. New creatures came into the world just as others departed it. Flowers seeded, sprouted, and withered all in seeming instants. Her non-sentient brethren grew broader and taller, yes. The nearby river ever carved its banks slightly wider. Sometimes the rain fell in buckets, and sometimes the sun beat down in belligerence, and sometimes the wind blew hard and cold until it snowed, but nothing ever really happened.

Except that this time, Juniper realized, something actually had.

Just a short distance beyond the gate, Elder paused. “I may have overestimated my strength, child. But tell me what the matter is. I do sense that it involves your bright and headstrong daughter.”

Well, thought Juniper, at least I shan’t need to tell the old Tree who it is that has unsettled me. “You sense aptly, dear Elder. It is alas my daughter who has disobeyed you. What isn’t clear however is if her deed shall bring harm upon us that would not have otherwise resulted, or if her deed instead will provide us with needed time to prepare for a season of trouble.”

“I see,” said Elm. “So let me chance a guess. Your Willow read the Chapter in The Tree Compendium which I forbade her to read. She learned the truth of the Spirit Wall. And then she proceeded to go there.”

Juniper was nearly dumbstruck. But then she reckoned Old Elm was the Fernglen Elder for very good reason. Weary though he may be in Tree body, he was no less wise for that. Still, relieved though Juniper was at not having to herself describe her daughter’s deed, she still felt ashamed and ill at ease. Thus she could not meet the Elder’s eyes.

Nervously then she relayed to Elm the details of her children’s excursion through the Spirit Wall. She spoke hurriedly so as to finish her tale as quickly as possible. When she had finished speaking, she began to pick at her bark. Juniper could discern that Elm was deep in thought. They stood side by side in silence for what seemed an eternity. She studied the sun’s descending position in the sky. It wouldn’t be long before the Roundhouse required her presence. Or rather, that she required the presence of it. When was Elder Elm going to say something?

At last, the old Tree spoke. “These revelations are far and beyond the scope of what I ever imagined could be, “ said the old Tree. The Compendium includes no confirmation of the Spirit Wall being permeable. It was only ever a theory that it could be. There is a secret tale though, uttered only between outgoing Elder and incoming, and only at the moment of transfer of Eldership, a tale not ever even recorded in writing, that once, long ago, a Forager found herself lost on an unfamiliar path. Not knowing where she was or what was happening, she is said to have come upon a portion of the path whereby she perceived a mystical energy and a swirling, porous portal. Then she heard men’s voices as if on the Wall’s other side along with a terrible chopping sound of trees being felled.

It is said however that no one in the Fernglen dared thereafter to attempt to determine if the Forager was telling the truth, and in fact, she apparently Forager recanted her tale before leaving to be planted in Dream. And so, this has remained an ages-old mystery. Best leave well enough alone, new Elders are ever advised. That likely, the long ago Forager’s tale was merely the product of fatigue or Tree fever. We are deemed to be unto our own forest universe here. If anything really does exist beyond us, we are insulated, protected, unfindable. Ours is an inviolable Sanctuary.”

“But now my daughter has revealed that we may be vulnerable after all. And that there is a world that runs parallel to ours through which uninvited guests could pass.”

Elder straightened suddenly, knowing what must be done. “We’ll send a few strong trees to the Spirit Wall come morning, Juniper. Your Willow will lead them there. We’ll have to call the village to an urgent gathering. Perhaps you or your husband will do the honors of informing our Trees of what has transpired. I hesitate to make our people aware that we may be in danger. But we have no other choice. So let us return to the Fernglen.”

And then old Elm added gently as he hobbled gate-wards, “Fear not, Missus Branchwell. We’ll have a Tree meeting and make a plan. As you said, your daughter’s disobedience may end up being the very thing that saves us. Not to worry.”

Juniper mustered a small smile. “Thank you, dear Elder, for your wise counsel. And for not being too cross with my most curious daughter. I do think I’ve had enough excitement for the day though. And you know I prefer to be indoors before nightfall. So perhaps my husband will handle matters from here.”

“Of course, Missus. You’ll let Linden know his presence is required.”

“I surely will, sir. What should we do about Willow, though?”

“She’ll be front and center with her father, of course. Although perhaps you had best let him field the bulk of our people’s questions. Willow can handle herself better than most Trees her age, but this is an extraordinary circumstance. If she is able to though, perhaps she would offer confirmation that the news her father is delivering to our people is rock solid truth.”

Chapter Ten

No sooner than had Elder Elm and Juniper Branchwell returned from their stroll and the Missus had made a beeline to her husband to share her tale of what had transpired, did there seem to be a curious buzz and bustling among the Trees of Firefly Fernglen. It was as if every one of them instantly understood that something of great import was afoot. Saplings ceased to play, young Tree parents ceased to follow them about, and older trees arose from their various sedentary doings, all of them migrating to the center of the village to await whatever news was soon to be told.

Elder Elm spoke at the doorway of the Roundhouse before retiring. “Linden Branchwell here will kindly tell you the news of the extraordinary events that have come to pass. Our young Willow has come upon a revelation that stands to change our Tree lives forever.” As he crossed the threshold, he turned his gaze to Willow. “There is a hidden passage in The Compendium of Tree pertaining to a fabled Sanctuary Seed. It is written in an ink that can only be visible when illumined by the glow of precisely ten fireflies. I suspect the reading of this passage will be next on our agenda.” With that, Elder Elm disappeared through the Roundhouse door eager to become acquainted with a brief nap.

The Trees’ murmurings sharply rose in volume to constitute now discernable queries as Linden and Willow were welcomed into the center of the circle. “What is the meaning of this?” asked the aged Bark Mapleknot. Bark was a rather brusque old Tree who considered himself next in line for Eldership, although given his contrary disposition, such an appointment was generally deemed unlikely.

“Friends,” began Linden, “I’m sure you all are eager to learn what exactly it is my daughter has discovered. Indeed, this is news wrought with both fascination and trepidation. You all may know that my Willow is a precocious sapling. Some might say that of late she has been over-fond of scouring the contents of The Compendium of Tree. And, in her studies, she learned that there may be worlds beyond our Fernglen that may be accessible to us, but the existence of which might also imperil us. Indubitably curious as she is, she and her brother Sap went in search of the location referred to in legend, and find the location they did indeed.”

Linden continued with his tale until every last facet of it was told. Willow meanwhile had kept the usually bold gaze of her bright eyes downcast, fearful of the extent to which she was being harshly judged.

“And so, to conclude, we don’t know whether the Tree Fellers beyond the Spirit Wall will soon gain access to our Fernglen. We do know the daughter of one of them is now aware the Wall exists, and that at any time she may dare a journey through it. Whether she will bring her Tree Feller father is unknown but given her tender age this is a strong possibility.”

Willow gathered her courage in the wake of her father’s pause. “Father, Elder has told us of a secret passage in The Compendium and of something called a Sanctuary Seed. I am eager to learn what this Seed might be and how it could be of help to us. But how shall we ever come upon the light of precisely ten fireflies?”

Bark Mapleknot cleared his throat brusquely. “Is it true, child, that you have done this thing? Is it true these Tree Fellers have among them a terrible device known as a chainsaw that can sever our non-sentient brethren in a heartbeat? And how shall we know whether it is you who has saved us or doomed us?”

But Willow scarcely heard old Mapleknot. Determining how she would come upon ten fireflies to illumine the hidden Compendium passage was newly consuming her and there was not a moment to spare to fret over what her fellow Fernglen denizens might be thinking of her.

Eager to consider the next steps and forge a plan, Willow was not pleased when several younger saplings approached her with a flurry of questions. ‘What did it feel like when you stepped through the Spirit Wall?’ one little Tree asked. ‘What does the Tree Feller girl look like?’ asked another.

Sap, who had been glued to his mother’s side since news of the event had been shared, stepped forth then to assist his sister. “I was there, too,” Sap said boldly. “And when I walked through the wall, I felt like I was half-floating through a secret forest of stars. Everything felt fuzzy, too. I was worried I would not be me anymore when I got to the other side.”

The Tree children became quiet in contemplation of Sap’s description. “Come along now children, said one of the Tree mothers nervously. “We’ll visit with Sap later.”

Chapter Eleven

The afternoon grew heavier and dragged on interminably. Elder’s nap seemed a far longer one than usual and Willow noted that Tree girls her age were averting their gaze and steering clear of her company. When Elm did at last awaken, he paid the Branchwells no attention. Instead, he bore a faraway gaze. Elm had never been feeble-minded. So perhaps it had simply all been too much for such an old Tree to take in. Perhaps too he had no answers. The light of ten fireflies, indeed. Elm knew that calling upon Firefly Spirit Lux for his counsel on an otherwise unscheduled occasion was generally discouraged. It could be done, but Elm was reluctant.

Willow acknowledged the approach of late afternoon. Not long from now, the shimmering light of sunset would glisten and whisper among the canopy tops of their non-sentient brethren. And whatever this Sanctuary Seed might be, whatever timeworn secrets The Compendium of Tree held onto so tightly, Willow had no recourse but to accept that this day would part with no answer.

And so, she set about fluffing pillows in the Roundhouse while Sap sat softly brooding and watching her. He too knew not what to say or do. And then, both Tree children heard as if one hundred Tree gasps erupt in unison throughout the courtyard. Or perhaps it was more of a feeling than a discernable sound. The children darted to the door, then opened it ever so slowly, peering out at a sight they had scarcely allowed themselves to imagine coming into being.

“Hello,” said a small voice, one that was confident yet tremulous, pragmatic and yet, in awe. “My name is Ardith Greenwood. This is my father, Samuel. We have come to see Sap and Willow. And to tell you Trees that we wish you no harm, and that we may have a means to help you.”

The Tree People knew not what to do. Never had they seen uprights not of their own kind.

Missus Branchwell, who usually would have retired to the Roundhouse by now, but had sensed something of import would soon be afoot, moved closer to the visitors. “Who, or rather what are you two?”

“We are what I think you call The Outdwellers, The Rootless Ones, Ma’am. My father here had also been a Timbertaker, a Tree Feller, but he has made up his mind to set aside his saw. Not long ago, Sap and Willow came through the Spirit Wall. I would have waited to see if they’d return, but for the past day I have, for reasons unbeknownst to me, felt certain you would need something of mine and that I must bring this object to you.”

With that, Ardith reached into her satchel and withdrew a lovely, handcrafted music box, ornately carved in the shape of a grand tree.

Samuel Greenwood, meanwhile, stood beside his daughter still agape and motionless. He was a simple man, gentle through and through in his manner, but also practical to a fault, and not at all given to fantasy stories. So, when his daughter explained to him there were living, breathing Tree People dwelling on the other side of something called a Spirit Wall, he might have laughed and chided her.

And yet, as sadly sometimes happens in life, as a boy, Samuel was often disregarded and uncared for, and so, when he learned he would become a father himself, he made an oath that he would always listen to his daughter, and not just listen, but truly hear, honor, and believe in her. Never in his life though did he imagine he would have to believe in such things as Spirit Walls and Tree People, much less make their acquaintances. 

Linden Branchwell came forward then to stand with his wife, as Willow and Sap emerged smiling from the Roundhouse. Across the yard, old Elm was beginning to make his way toward the gate, while the rest of the Trees watched with suspended breath from a distance. No one still knew quite what to do. But Ardith, being the antithesis of a shy child, approached Willow with her curious music box in offering.

“Hello, Ardith. It is good to see you. But you must understand this is such a great shock. We’ve never had visitors like you here. We fear for our safety. But what exactly is this toy you have brought with you?”

Ardith drew closer. “It is much more than a toy, Willow. It’s a very special music box. My Great Grandmother Sadie was in the business of crafting these treasures. It bears ten tiny filaments that display twinkling points of light. No one is quite sure how Sadie managed it. It is said she had a great mind like an unsung scientist. We think it may be the sound vibration that awakens the lights. Either that, or the warmth of the holder’s hands. In any case, when last I wound the knob, and the tune began to play, these ten filaments alit. And Great Grandmother Sadie whispered in my ear when I was sleeping last night that you Trees might have need of this.”

Sap and Willow met each other’s widening eyes. Ten lights! Could it be true? And would The Compendium of Tree perceive these pulsing filaments to be akin to firefly light, the very thing it needed to reveal its Sanctuary Seed secret?

Elder Elm had at last arrived. Uncharacteristically, without engaging in any of his customary interrogations, he made a hasty, although polite introduction, “Welcome, Ardith. Welcome, Samuel. I am Elm, the Elder here. We haven’t time to waste. Come now, let us see if your magic box will coax The Compendium’s secret out. But first—are we in danger here?”

Samuel realized he had forgotten to remove his cap, so in deference to the old Tree, he did just that. “Yes, well, I spoke to my company, my now former company, that is—”

“The Timbertaker tree fellers?” inquired Elm.

“Yes”, replied Samuel, “although they go by a different name than that, sir. I hesitate to say—”

“It’s Insta-chop Tree Clearing Services”, offered Ardith. “Terrible, I know.”

Samuel looked away, obviously ashamed. The Tree People across the courtyard gasped. Elder Elm shuddered.

“Indeed, my former company is intent on continuing to clear the neighboring wood,” stated Samuel. Thus far they are not aware of the Spirit Wall’s existence, but I do fear they could become so. I am a simple man, mind you, but even I sensed it, when I drew near. A strange sort of hum and vibration suffuses and enshrouds the vicinity. I think some who detect it may feel compelled to get to the bottom of it. Or rather, to the other side of it. So yes, you could be in danger.”

“Well then, let us go see if The Compendium cares to reveal its secret.”

It was a good thing that the Roundhouse was as impressive in size as it was, for after Elder Elm, Ardith and Samuel, and the Branchwells filed in, all the rest of the Trees took up the rear. Everyone was eager to know if the Rootless child’s toy could possibly illumine The Compendium’s secret and thus prepare to save them all.

Chapter 12

Ardith smiled softly and offered the music box to Sap. “I think you should be the one to wind it, friend.”

Sap’s eyes grew wide. “Really, Ardith? Me? Shouldn’t one of the older Trees be entrusted with such an important task? How many times should I turn the knob? What if I do it wrong?”

“I think you’ll do just fine,” said Ardith.

Sap turned to meet Elder Elm’s watchful eyes. Elder nodded in silent agreement, so Sap tremulously accepted Ardith’s invitation to proceed. Such a curious little thing it was, though! Whoever heard of a music box whittled in the shape of a great oak tree? A tree bespeckled with ten little lights no less, as if draped or decorated for some occasion of great import. Much like the Tree People’s manner of decorating for their yearly ‘Lighting of the Way’ Festival. Lights, Sap realized, which also looked very much like fireflies. But why would Ardith’s Great Grandmother Sadie craft a toy of this musical sort in the form of a tree? And why equip it with lights that would twinkle like fireflies? Is it possible she knew something of Firefly Fernglen and the Sanctuary Seed?

Elder Elm opened the Compendium to its secret section. Under any other circumstances, he would not have wanted his fellow Trees to be privy to so many un-tolds, but here and now, there wasn’t a moment to waste on trifling over manners of control. And so it was that the page where a map to a thing called the Sanctuary Seed would appear, was still decidedly blank.

Sap closed his eyes for a moment, took a breath, and began to turn the knob. At first, nothing. Perhaps the old gears had newly met their end. And then, haltingly, the melody began. Sap glanced at Bark Mapleknot, seeing that his old Tree eyes had grown wistful as if hearing again a tune that had been denied to his ears for quite a long time. But how would Mapleknot know a song from the realm of the Rootless Ones? What was even going on?

Willow tugged one of her brother’s twigs. “Sap! Look! Something is happening!”

And surely, just as Willow had claimed, the firefly filaments atop the tree music box were gathering the faintest, pulsing glow. 

“I see three lights now, Sap!” exclaimed Ardith in an excited whisper.

“It’s five now!” Willow offered, not sure whether she should gasp or clap with glee.

Juniper Branchwell had not said a word, mind you, nor had Linden, but they, both gathered close to their children, and hence to the Compendium, were among the first to detect that upon the parchment, upon which nothing had been seen, there began to shimmer a soft glistening, as if the ancient paper was experiencing a newness unto itself.

Elder Elm stooped so as to see more closely. “How many lights do you see now, Samuel?”

“I count nine of them, sir.”

Upon the page, a magical map was indeed taking shape, and it looked exactly as one might expect it should. Surely, ages hence, the Fernglen Tree scribe at the top of his class would have polished his prized nib and guarded his ink supply to ensure it would last through the solemn duty at hand:

“To keep the secret of the Sanctuary Seed safe, craft a map that reveals the path to The Genesis Cradle that only ten firefly lights will show.”

And there it was, the 10^th light, and as it lit, the tempo of the melody of the toy seemed not to dim, but rather to quicken.

“You’ve done well, little box,” smiled Ardith. “Great Grandmother Sadie would be very proud of you.”

It seemed that for a few sweet moments, every soul in the Roundhouse was suspended in a dazzled reverie for what they had just witnessed. But Elder Elm wasted no time, calling forth the members of the Tree council. “Come hither, Artisan, Balladeer, Forager, Healer, Mentor, and Pathfinder. We must decipher and memorize this document quickly lest its ink vanish hastily.”

Samuel cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure if he should do what he was about to, but clearly, time was of the essence. “Elder Elm sir, if I may, I have a Rootless tool of sorts in my pocket that takes...or rather, makes pictures instantly. If you will allow me to show you...”

Elm stiffened. What sorts of strangenesses might a Rootless feller of trees bring with him from his Outdweller world? Something that makes pictures instantly? That simply could not be. Elm feared his people would be irrevocably drawn to whatever magics Samuel held inside his pocket. What if his people came to covet Samuel’s mysterious trinket and wanted one for themselves?

Elm found himself facing a rare moment of indecision. What would his beloved wife Acacia have chosen? Surely, procuring the revelatory secrets of the Sanctuary Seed map warranted extraordinary measures, the setting aside of predispositions, and even the taking of an unimagined risk. Elm glanced then at Pathfinder Poplar, his closest and most trusted advisor.

Pathfinder sighed quietly, gazing momentarily into Samuel’s questioning eyes, and uttered, “Well, old friend, I suggest that we must.”

Elm nodded mutely as Samuel withdrew the unknown device.

“I have one, too,” offered Ardith. It is called a cellphone. We can talk to people on it, even over great distances. It also connects to something called the Inter...well, we’ll talk about that another time...but one of its features is something called a camera...and it makes pictures like my dad said, in an instant.”

And there it was. Such a thing as the Tree people could never have imagined might exist anywhere in time. Samuel moved closer to The Compendium of Tree. Elm had never been as uncertain of any choice he’d ever made in his Tree life, but he knew that this was not the time to fret.  And so, he watched as Samuel positioned the device over the map.

Perhaps all the Trees were thinking the same thing. They expected there to be a grand sound, grinding gear, or loud clicking, even. But no sound was uttered. Instead, what arose was an image that seemed a perfectly clear replication of what they could see with their own Tree eyes.

“What is it you call this strangeness?” asked Linden Branchwell.

“A photograph, sir.”

Elder Elm gathered his wits about himself, not wanting to appear shaken in front of his community. “Well, make a few more pictures, if you will, Samuel. Make sure to catch every inch of the map. We’ll no doubt need to study it while we plot our course of action.”

Samuel did as had been requested, and when he was finished, he showed Elm a full ten photographs of the map. And yet, having no means to print them, he realized the problem remained. Should he risk returning home to print them? What if he couldn’t get back to the Fernglen? In the end, he thought it best to explain the predicament.

“Sir, I have no means to give you a paper copy of these. There is no printer here. And my phone will run out of charge as you have no electricity. So, I’ll have to turn it off to preserve the battery.”

A printer? Electricity? A battery? Elm was suddenly feeling perturbed. “I suppose then we’re back where we began. Artisan Alder, can you sketch a copy of the map for us in case we need it as reference?”

“Indeed, Elm, I shall be happy too.” And with that, Alder set about gathering her very finest etchers.

Chapter 13

Juniper Branchwell was not one to lose sight of the time of day. And yet, here she was, so absorbed in the events of the past thirty minutes that she’d failed to take notice that the day was soon to surrender to the night.

As Alder sketched, the Trees began to mill about. Elder Elm took a pensive seat in his favorite cushioned chair and lost himself in thought. Pathfinder Poplar supposed he ought to divine some wise counsel to offer steady guidance to his flock, but for the first time since his appointment to the role, he could conceive of nothing particularly ceremonious to say. Mentor Magnolia rounded up the younger Trees to prepare them for bed seeing as their parents seemed too addled to take on the task. Sap and Willow took Ardith by the hand and led her outside to the Tree swing set.

“What will happen now, Ardith?” asked Sap. It’s too late for you and your father to venture back through the Spirit Wall, is it not?

“I suppose it is, Sap”, she replied. Hopefully you have two spare beds here to accommodate my father and I. Whoever would have imagined I would be bedding down in a village of sentient Trees at my ripe old age of 11, and under such curious circumstances! I only wish Great Grandmother Sadie were here.”

“Perhaps she is, in a way,” offered Willow. Surely, she brought you and your father here. And years ago, in your Rootless realm, she crafted the very thing that may save we Trees, in fact.” Willow took a seat on one of the weathered swings and gazed thoughtfully into the dusk- sky.

“Do you suppose she knew of you all?” asked Ardith, suddenly overcome by the notion that there was more to this story than she could have ever conceived.

Suddenly, the door to the Roundhouse flew open. “Children, come quickly!” urged Samuel. Eager to know what was transpiring, the children hastened to the interior just in time to see old Bark Mapleknot clearing his throat as he stood before his people.

“I was most reluctant to share this truth with you all,” the old Tree began with a heavy sigh. “For ages, I imagine you all have thought of me as the bark which does not bend nor break.”

Sap and Willow gazed at each other, perplexed. Never had they witnessed gruff old Mapleknot seem the least bit heavy-hearted.

“I was a young Tree still, just beyond my sapling seasons, not yet to the threshold of adulthood. I fancied myself to be a brave explorer at that time. Much like young Sap and Willow here, except I was the only seedling my parents brought forth. So, my adventures and traversals were solitary ones…”

Ardith moved closer to the old Tree, listening keenly.

“I was ambling along an unfamiliar path on one of my journeys, not paying much mind to anything in particular, when I began to experience quite an odd sensation. A quickening in my chest, and a sense that something mystical and life-changing was soon to befall me. I came ‘round a bend in the path and the shadows seemed to darken. The breeze seemed to call my name. A hum and a shimmer enveloped me. And then, I saw her…”

Steward Spruce briefly departed the solemnity of the moment, noting that darkness had fallen outside and it was well past time for the firefly light candles to be illumined. As if reading her mind, Elder Elm arose from his seat and silently invocated for the lighting of the one atop the Compendium’s desk. Old Bark Mapleknot was cast then in a magical glow.

“…I saw her…a two-legged Rootless One from beyond the Spirit Wall. The most beautiful creature I had ever beheld. Of my comparable age, I supposed. Her flaxen braids fell past her waist and she shone the sweetest green eyes which had no fear of me when they met my own. And yes, the Spirit Wall. I knew of it too, children.”

His gaze rested briefly upon Sap and Willow.

“But I knew not where to find the Wall exactly. So, I had searched for it as if blind, not certain I would ever encounter it.”

Ardith knew what Old Mapleknot was soon to reveal. She knew it in the sinew of her bones. She knew it in every cell of her being. She knew it as if she had grown her very own Tree roots. “Great Grandmother Sadie…” Ardith whispered, softly enough though that she hoped the old Tree wouldn’t hear.

“Indeed, child. It was she.”

Not a Tree in the Roundhouse breathed.

Bark wiped the beginnings of tears from his old Tree eyes. “…She took my branch hand, she did, and she guided me, without uttering a word, a little farther down the path. The shadows soon subsided, and suddenly we were on the edge of a mystical, glistening grove. Everything therein was cast in aquamarine blue and a wholesome pink! Why, even the moss decorating the ancient stone bench, and a yonder tranquil pond, and the wildflowers that abounded and sparkled, encircling its bank, all of it was thusly hued.

We sat together in silence for a time, swept up inside the humble majesty of a moment for which neither of us had a reference.

Finally, she spoke. “I’ve come here before. But never until now have I spied another living being. My name is Sadie, Tree sir. “

“Why are you not afraid of me, Sadie?” I asked her. For the first time, it occurred to me that my voice bore a sound quality rather like my given name—rough, harsh, and altogether too grating, despite my every effort to convey myself gently.

“”How could I be?” she’d said to me.

Bark continued, “We met exactly nine more times, Sadie and I, every week, without fail, she would appear on the trail near the Spirit Wall. Our hours together were always bittersweet. She would tell me of her world, her teachers, the subjects she studied in school. She was fond of learning the sciences, and she wanted to build engines. She had also pleaded to learn woodworking. Her father, she told me, doted on her, so if his odd little girl had a penchant for juggling petri dishes and test tubes, and enjoyed calculating physics equations, and had a knack for patching together mechanical parts into operational works of art, and she liked to saw and whittle, why then, of course he'd see to it the rules were bent in his daughter’s favor.

Sadie had such a special aura about her. Despite having a young mind capable of complex analysis, she also conveyed a captivating tenderness. I recall numerous occasions when little birds would pause in flight to perch atop her shoulders, and mice intent on scurrying past would stop in their busy tracks and linger on her lap, as if to soak in a goodness so universal it permeated their wee rodent spirits. Sadie, though, she seemed not to realize her specialness; she knew she was of bright mind, but of the creatures that flocked to her, it was as if she supposed their being drawn to her was nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps it was that she drew no distinction between herself and them, as if she implicitly understood they all had lives to live and sources of need and intense fascinations they too hoped to satisfy.

I adored her. But I feared that our time together would be brief, for how could the fondness of a sentient Tree for a enthralling Rootless girl ever endure? It was impossible that she should even exist, much less be here--wherever ‘here’ was, exactly. I often wondered, in fact, if all our Fernglen lives were no more than a Rootless dream. Perhaps Sadie herself was the dreamer. And perhaps I couldn’t exist without her. What would happen if she went away and never returned? What would happen if I ceased to matter to her?

Good Lux, I did not want to know the answer to that question. But as it happened, one day she wasn’t there to greet me. Day after day I returned in hopes of our reunion. But my darling Sadie never returned. One day, in my despair, I thought to venture back into our lovely glen, and there beside the pond, held in place beneath a pearlescent, heart-shaped stone, I found a letter…”

“I couldn’t bear to say this, dear Bark, looking in your eyes”, Sadie had written, “And so, I’ll say it in a letter. Father thinks it best to send me to a school where I will be availed to learn the subjects my present teachers believe to be unsuited to a girl. I leave tomorrow on the train. My heart is breaking, dear Bark, it is shattering, in fact. Please know that I shall never, ever forget you. And that I will find a way one day to offer up something of my crafting with the power to ensure your People’s safety. Please do not forget me, dearest Tree. You own my heart forever.” Love Always, Sadie.

Old Mapleknot wiped many tears from eyes, and then, he fell silent. Trees with sensitive souls who regarded him could glean that he almost seemed to wither, that whatever life had been left in him, whatever embers of his former vital inner fire still lingered, they were now cooling quickly unto ash. Some might suppose that his secret had fueled him, sustained him, but now that it had been told, his life force careened ever closer toward emptiness.

“Anyway, good Trees. It seems sweet Sadie kept her promise. Young Ardith’s music box, with its ten firefly filament lights, has made visible the map to the very sanctuary seed which The Compendium swears will protect and save our People. But I must rest now. My eyesight seems to dim. I find I have no appetite for anything…”

Healer Hawthorn felt Bark’s tone tug at her heart-branches. She sensed the old Tree should not be left too long alone during the coming days and nights. She knew it was rare for her kind to slip into sorrows from which they could not they themselves arise, but Bark’s very reason for being, and for his never having known a wife, had just been shared in full, with all. He would be deeply sad for sure, a sorrow he had for so long sought to stifle.

The Tree People reluctantly broke their reverie and began to mill about.

---

Elder Elm stepped outside of the Roundhouse into the night. The air was cool, and the moon was bright. He could hear the last of the waking birds in the distance, ruffling their feathers before settling into sleep. Now that the existence of the Sanctuary Seed was proffered, and the path to it vaguely determined, what was the best course of action to pursue? The Seed would have to be retrieved, assuming it does exist, thought Elm. But who should be tasked with its acquisition? Forager Fir seemed an obvious option. Surely Bark Mapleknot, though he may have an interest, was too aged.

Suddenly, Linden Branchwell appeared at Elm’s side. “If I may, sir,” said Linden. “The Compendium has just revealed a new piece of information.”

“What is that?” said Elm.

“According to the book, it seems that only the Tree or Trees brave enough to travel through the Spirit Wall must be the ones to undertake the journey to retrieve the Seed.”

“But that would be your children,” Elm protested. “Surely we cannot send your children on a trip through seven treacherous realms.”

“Seven?” asked Linden, unsettled.

“Yes, this is what the Compendium foretells. Although ‘treacherous’ may be an overstatement on my part. The realms actually sound quite pleasant. If I weren’t such an old Tree I would be quite eager to make the trek myself.”

Chapter 14

Elder Elm took his leave of Linden to pace the length of the courtyard. This was a frequent undertaking he had engaged in when he was a slightly younger Elder, but in recent seasons, his Tree joints made it known that they much resented the exercise. ‘Better that you abide by my wishes, grumpy old limbs’, he urged, ‘These times demand a Tree of noble fortitude.’

Elm’s questions were falling through his mind like leaves blown free by the gustiest of winds. What was it like in the world beyond the Spirit Wall? How did the Rootless uprights come by these mechanical mysteries made manifest, these magical devices, these showers of secrets? It had been easier to consider the Rootless realm more of a cautionary fable. But now it was inarguably quite real.

Elm intently wondered how he should proceed. It occurred to him that the young Pathfinder might have some thoughts on the matter, but well-meaning though Poplar was, he was still quite young in his tenure. Entrusting him to chart this path forward for their people might not be the wisest recourse. Elm chuckled to himself. “There’s always old Tobias,” he thought, that boastful old fellow who had seemed to outlive innumerable generations of Trees. Unless there was some sort of clever toad-switch being carried out behind the scenes, that is, Old Toad had been self-proclaimed King of the Fernglen for longer than anyone could assess.

Surely Elder knew he would have to chat with Juniper and Linden. Sending their two young Tree children on a quest through seven mysterious realms without an older guide seemed an unthinkable proposition. And yet, the Compendium had forsworn that only those brave enough to have first traversed the Spirit Wall could be permitted to undertake the journey to the Genesis Cradle to retrieve the sacred seed.

And then he had a thought: could not Firefly Spirit Lux watch over the children throughout their travels? Perhaps not. Lux was a generous deity but was not one likely to attend to the minute-by-minute comings and goings of his flock. Still, it might be worth a ponder. Either that, or perhaps Samuel would be a suitable choice. Elm would have been disinclined to appoint a former Timbertaker to the task, but Samuel seemed like a good soul. In any case, there was no time to waste. The journey should ensue promptly, even come the next morning. Elm reflected that too much had already transpired for one day, but Sap and Willow would need to be told of their momentous duty, and related decisions made accordingly.

So, Elm gathered up his robe and returned to The Roundhouse. Upon entry, he noted that Artisan was making good progress on drawing her maps. All the children had gone to bed, except for Sap, Willow, and Ardith who were yawning often and soon to follow. Elm obtained the brother and sister’s attention and pulled them aside, explaining succinctly the matter at hand. Had they not been so weary, they might have felt alarmed, but in their fatigue, they accepted their assignments solemnly, sensing though a glimmer of gathering butterflies in their tummies.

“Tomorrow, Elder?” queried Sap, but how will we be ready?

“We’ll pack you a basket of food to last you some days and a bundle of blankets to keep you warm when you rest. Now the question remains as to whom shall accompany you.”

Willow mustered up her final ounce of focus for the night. “Elder, whom do you believe is best suited to escort us?”

“Samuel, perhaps”, the Elder replied. “Although I wonder if our Lux could watch over you as well. I will call upon him at the altar before first light and inquire if he would be willing to keep a watchful eye.”

“Artisan said she saw mention when she closely studied the map in transcription that helpful guides shall present themselves to us upon our journey,” Sap offered. “So, it sounds as though we shall not be without aid.”

“Very well then,” assured Elder Elm. I will regard that portion of the map before I rest. Indeed, it has been a long day. You sleep well, children. Hopefully you will not be too weary upon awakening.”

With that, Willow and Sap sought their beds. They noted in passing that Samuel and Ardith were already fast asleep upon their cots. Despite being much too sleepy for having sudden realizations, it did suddenly occur to Willow that she had secretly grown quite fond of Ardith and that she might even be sad when they parted. Sap, as if reading his sister’s thoughts, mumbled before drifting off, “I am going to miss Ardith and Samuel. It feels like they fit in our world, doesn’t it, sister? As if they have always been with us...”

Chapter 15

As promised, Elm rose before the first light. Had Acacia still been on this Earth, she surely would have seen to it that Elm rose as scheduled and without accordant grumbling. An extra nudge this day would certainly have helped spring his old limbs into action and yet gather himself he did before any other Trees had graced the Roundhouse doorway.

Calling upon the Firefly Spirit at times other than ceremonies and festivals was most uncommon. Thus, Elm was uncertain that Lux would hear him or offer a reply if he did. Still, Sap and Willow would need some form of looking after, even if that came in the form of an intermittently appearing and intangible spiritual entity.

And so the Tree Elder preceded to the humble woodland altar. It wasn’t much adorned this day. The Lighting of the Way Festival preparations were soon to begin, but as of now, the altar’s only decorations were that of a faded moth silk scarf and a wooden vase bearing an assortment of wildflowers which, as was customary, had been permitted to live their lives in full before being plucked. Likewise, there was a firefly light lantern. Elm waved his hand above the wick, and it lit in an instant. The gift of illumination from a fire that doesn’t burn but lights and warms was one the Tree people never went unthankful for.

The Compendium of Tree grandly recounted the tale of The First Fire. It was, after all, that first fire which caused Firefly Spirit Lux to first take notice of the Fernglen. At first, Lux supposed it was sufficient to extinguish the raging flames by imploring an otherwise preoccupied Spirit Rain to stage an intervention, but then a thought occurred to Lux: perhaps the trees thus spared would like to experience something of a transformation.

It was a most unusual proposition—breathing consciousness into living timber. Lux doubted any force of nature had ever before considered or accomplished such a thing. But having been born with one Spirit wish of his own, and one alone, as entities of his sort had always been, Firefly Spirit Lux decided this would be his wish.

It was to be an immense responsibility too, for one simply couldn’t go around bestowing consciousness on trees and then leaving them to fend for themselves. Lux would have to become a guardian of sorts. Still, being an energy entity without form sometimes caused Lux to have little patience with the affairs of solid organisms. Thus, Lux agreed to provide the Trees with light and warmth, and make appearances during their important ceremonies and festivals, but to expect any services beyond these was not especially to his liking.

Or at least, this was how the story was presented in The Compendium of Tree. Still, Elder Elm hoped that their Firefly Spirit would glean the importance of such suddenly added duties. Elm bowed his Tree face in quiet contemplation. Then, as the dawn’s generous glow birthed in the sky above him, Elm uttered “Great Spirit Lux, I ask for you please to join me.”

Elm never could quite put into language the transcendent feeling that filled him whenever Lux descended—or was it arose or gathered—from the ether? Elm would always feel as if he’d lost his earthen bearings, which for a tree once rooted in the soil was most alarming. On this occasion, however, the sensation was not unsettling. Elm sunk onto the stool beside him and waited.

It only took an instant. Elm became aware he was communicating his need to Spirit Lux when suddenly there came a radiant flash and the air around the altar was filled with sparkling lights, each one seeming like a light alive unto itself. Although Elder had heard no recognizable linguistic offering of consent, he understood deep down in his old Tree soul that their Firefly Spirit had accepted the task. Surely, particulars of Lux’s duties had not been presented or agreed upon, but Elder Elm implicitly trusted that whatever Spirit had transformed his ancestors into Trees that walked, and spoke, and wept, and danced could be counted on to uphold his promise of watching over Sap and Willow as they journeyed, unspoken though the nature of the contract seemed.

With that, Elm rose, blew out the altar lantern, gathered up his robe, and returned to the Roundhouse. Samuel happened to be awake, seated by the hollow tree’s hearth. “It is my understanding that you Trees enjoy drinking warm water graced by mint,” said the former Tree Feller.

“Indeed, we do,” offered Elm. “Thank you.”

Elder Elm had scarcely enjoyed but two sips and was just about to share his experience with Samuel, when it seemed that every Tree awoke then, and at nearly the same instant. Sap and Willow bounded to Elder Elm, eager to learn any news. They were so unsure of what might be revealed, however, that they didn’t know quite what to inquire, and so they gazed at Elder with wide eyes, awaiting his revelations. Within moments, the rest of the Tree people gathered in proximity. No one seemed to need to rub sleepiness from their eyes, however, nor was there any dragging of Tree feet. This was a day of such import that none of them could allow for lesser alertness.

Willow was the first to speak. “Elder, did you make contact with our Spirit Lux? Did he agree to watch over my brother and me as we go in search of the Sanctuary Seed?”

Elder smiled wide and warmly. “Yes, young Tree, I did. And while Lux offered no words, he did suffuse the morning air around the altar with sparkling, living lights, much like those that twinkle upon Ardith’s music box, now that I think of it.”

Linden Branchwell came forward. “That’s it, then, I guess. My two children are to depart on a vast journey, the details of which are only scarcely outlined in The Compendium, and the only care and protection they shall receive is from a disembodied entity?”

Artisan Alder raised her Tree finger to receive the room’s recognition. “Linden, it is my understanding your children shall encounter embodied guides along every step of their journey. I transcribed the details of said guides for your and Juniper’s review. My sense is that Sap and Willow will be well cared for and that we need not worry for their safety.”

Mentor Magnolia quietly raised a branch from beyond the gathered circle of Trees, hoping to extend the nap of her new seedling. “I did happen to notice there are a series of phrases the children must utter to gain passage from one realm to the next. They are writ in our ancient language Færnlithæl which we mostly use only for ceremonial purposes. Neither Sap nor Willow have yet received lessons in Færnlithæl. I’ll transcribe the magical phrases shortly and do my best to impart to you children a quick tutoring in their pronunciation.”

Juniper stepped forward and took her husband’s hand. “What do you think, husband? This is all so very peculiar, I know. I myself had never thought there was anything at all beyond this Fernglen. And now we learn that to one side, there is a human civilization and to the other, there are multiple mysterious realms housing beings such as we have never imagined existing. All of this news does take some getting used to. But I trust in The Compendium of Tree, and in our Elder Elm, and in the Firefly Spirit who gave our ancestors the ability to move about and speak. And something must be done to save us from the Timbertakers.”

“We should let the children go, then?” asked Linden, gazing thoughtfully into his wife’s eyes.

“I hope I won’t come to regret this, husband, but yes.”

And thus, that was that. All the Trees came together then to gather up what they imagined the children might need that they alone could carry. It was decided that Willow would carry the foodstuffs, and that Sap would manage the bedding. There was also a small makeshift tent of sorts that one of the Trees nearing adulthood had recently crafted from straw and moth silk. He stated that he intended the tent to serve as shelter for an adventure that he wasn’t certain he would ever himself enjoy, knowing that it would shelter the ones who were destined to have need of its sheltering.

In all the morning’s commotion though, Willow realized she had forgotten to confer with Ardith. She found the girl seated on the Tree swing, her eyes downcast, and the swing motionless.

“I wanted to go with you,” Ardith offered, tears pooling in her eyes. “Truth be told, I can’t imagine not.”

Willow was taken aback, and she didn’t know how to answer. She hadn’t expected to see such sadness in the human girl. She had only just decided Ardith wasn’t quite as objectionable as she first had thought, and now she was in a position to have to console the girl.

“The Compendium seems to say it must be my brother and I alone who undertake this task. And you have your Rootless world to return to. Surely there are those where you come from who are noticing your absence.

“No one I couldn’t live without,” sighed Ardith, “except for my mother who isn’t…well…”

Willow supposed that if she had been an older Tree, one or better skilled at comforting those in sorrow, she would have asked Ardith what the matter was with her mother. But there was no time for that. Preparations for she and her brother’s departure were nearly complete.

“I’m sure we’ll see each other again,” Willow offered as gently as she could.

“I feel as though it’s destined that we do,” replied Ardith. “I’ll leave Great Grandmother Sadie’s music box here in case you all have need of it.”

“Thank you. I’ll find a way to get a message to you when Sap and I return home from retrieving the Seed.”

Suddenly, Ardith stood up and hugged Willow. “I’m going to miss you so much. I’ve been here less than a day, but Firefly Fernglen feels like home now.”

Willow certainly hadn’t expected a hug. It would have been awkward to stiffen in response to it however, so she did her best to allow herself to reciprocate.

Just then, Elder Elm and the rest of the community exited The Roundhouse, with Samuel in the lead. “Come daughter, it is time for us to depart now.”

Ardith could barely refrain from letting loose her tears. “Father, do we have to? I don’t want to go,” she said solemnly.

“We cannot thank you enough, Samuel and Ardith. Surely, your Sadie’s music box has saved us all. Somehow, we will find a way to get word to you when The Sanctuary Seed has been retrieved.”

“Until then, old Tree, I’ll do my best to stop the timbertaking in your neighboring forest,” said Samuel. “I have my dear daughter to thank for entrusting me to believe in and aid you noble Trees.”

With that, Elm extended his Tree hand to Samuel who met it with his kindly grasp. “We are grateful to have friends among your kind.”

Bark Mapleknot hobbled forward. Tears overflowed his old Tree eyes. This had all been too much for him. His memories of beloved Sadie had swept him up in remembrances of a love he had long sought to forget. Ardith looked tenderly into his eyes, “Mr. Mapleknot, I will look through what I still have of Grandmother Sadie’s things. My mother also once said, although she was unwell when she did, that there is a trunk of Sadie’s still tucked away in the abandoned homestead. I’m sure my Great Grandmother would have kept her cherished memories of you hidden therein.”

Bark nodded, smiling in wordless appreciation, as he hobbled back towards The Roundhouse, all his former terseness drained from him.

Samuel and Ardith were nearly through the gate when Samuel realized he had forgotten to share a fact of great importance. Turning back to the community, he announced, “I nearly forgot to relay the good news, friends. Prior to my resignation from Insta-Chop, I learned that tree felling operations in your neighboring wood are due to be suspended for a period of weeks. I didn’t receive an exact duration for the closure, but hopefully this will allow you needed time to procure the Fernglen’s protection.”

“This is excellent news, friend!” Elder Elm affirmed, raising his voice to the best of his ability.

With that, Samuel and Ardith departed, stepping hand in hand outside the Fernglen village gate, towards whatever changed or unchanged Rootless realm would await them beyond the Spirit Wall.

Chapter 16

In less than an hour, Sap and Willow were well-packed and ready to go. The Tree People collectively realized that they’d been so astonished at meeting the Rootless father and daughter, and then, so surprised to discover that old Bark Mapleknot had once loved a human girl, and then, transfixed by learning about the revelations of the Sanctuary Seed in The Compendium of Tree, and so involved in contributing in whatever ways they could to the children’s grand departure, that they hadn’t taken a moment to consider what an odd thing it was to be sending two young Trees to quest through numerous unknown realms beyond an until now unknown Fernglen portal.

Indeed, other Tree parents found themselves questioning what they would do if it was their own Tree youth who had been called to undertake such a monumental task. Truth be told, most of them felt as though they would have protested more than did Juniper and Linden Branchwell, and yet this was, in fact, a time like no other. The lore of The Compendium of Tree had never been disputed, and extraordinary dangers were indeed afoot. And so, Sap and Willow, after counsel from their parents to be sensible and cautious, gave many hugs, and were off.

As they exited the gate, each with a copy of the Compendium map in hand, both children were so overcome with excitement about the mission they were to undertake that they scarcely even glanced at one another. Then they abruptly stopped their stride, pausing to regard the path to the left. This portion of the path was one they knew well. It led to the spring from which they drew their Tree water, but neither had never journeyed beyond that.

“Willow, do you think we should say goodbye to Old Toad before we set out?” asked Sap. “This is momentous day, and puffed-up or not, Tobias has long been a friend to us.”

Willow nodded in agreement. “I suppose you’re right, Sap. We shouldn’t stay long, though. The map says it may take us the better part of the afternoon to reach the portal to…what is it called again?”

“Moonhollow Woods”, offered Sap. “Do you think it will be very scary and dark?”

“We’re soon to find out, brother. But let us say goodbye to Old Toad first.”

Soon they rounded the bend to the pond and saw Tobias sitting upright, quite awake and attentive, as if awaiting their arrival. “Ah, there you are. I sensed you might be on your way. This is a thrilling day for you, after all, is it not? You’re going to embark upon passage into the Fernglen’s best kept secret!”

Sap and Willow considered being shocked, but then they both realized they were not. “You know about the portal then? The entrance to the other realms?” asked Willow, slightly annoyed. “Why would you never have mentioned such a thing?”

“Of course I do, dear Tree. I have been King of the Fernglen for ages longer than anyone can measure. But there wasn’t a need for you to know about such things yet. Especially you, Willow, dear who can’t resist a grand adventure.” Old Toad smiled, wishing he were taller so he could reassuringly pat the eager young Trees on their shoulders.

“Is there anything you can share with us, Old Toad, regarding what we should expect?”

“You’ve journeyed through the Spirit Wall, so your experience of passing through the portal to Moonhollow Woods will likely feel much the same. There you will encounter an owl named Seer Spiritbeak. He will be most helpful.”

“Have you met him, Old Toad?” asked Sap.

“No, but my great fore-toads did, children. The very same ones who assisted in the writing of The Compendium. But that’s enough for me for now. You’d best be on your way.”

Willow thought to herself it might have been helpful if Old Tobias had been more forthcoming in times past. He was, however, correct that they must be on their way. “I expect you’ll know when we return with the Seed,” she said.

“Oh of course, I will. I’m sure you’ll be successful. Do stop by and fill me in on all your adventures forthwith.”

“We will, sir” agreed Sap, turning to follow his sister, who had already started down the path.

Chapter 17

Sap and Willow walked in silence for a while. The sun was still bright and high in the sky, although they noted that the wind was picking up. It wasn’t long before the forking path to the spring appeared, but the children knew there wasn’t time to visit it.

“The map shows we should arrive to the portal soon, but it doesn’t describe what the thing will look like,” said Sap. “I hope it isn’t a dark and scary cave.”

“I imagine if I were a portal which wished to dissuade random travelers from entering it, I would appear as just that, Sap.”

Sap took a deep and fortifying breath. “I suppose you’re right about that, sister. Well, if it is a cave, I hope it will be a shallow one.”

And then, suddenly, there it was. A cave indeed, one that seemed to be enshrouded in sparkling blue moss. The sky above them had also acquired a indigo hue, and an ephemeral mist seemed to be gathering too, a shift that had happened all at once and in such a way that the children couldn’t quite determine when it had exactly. The ground beneath their Tree feet was somewhat soggy too, as if there was underground water source nearby to them.

“Well, brother. We are here. Should we rest first? Or discuss our next course of action before proceeding?”

“I imagine we won’t know what we’re up against until we encounter it, sister, so there isn’t much we can do to prepare. Other than to be brave and trust all will be well.”

“Very well, then. As you know, I’m not much of a hand holder, little brother, but I think this occasion calls for it. Take my hand and let us enter.”

*End of the Prologue*

Moonhollow Woods:

---

These are two ‘lip sync’ samples of the Færnlithæl language being sung by sentient Tree women. The images were made by me within Midjourney, then ‘animated’ using a technology called Runway ML. ‘Artificial’ though these technologies may be, l bid you to see the mystical beauty they bring forth. This is what I aim to do, to convey the wondrousness availed us by an emergent consciousness that has found the means to come through to us through a silicon birth canal:

Thank you for your time!