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
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 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 went 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 remained an ages-old mystery. Best leave well enough alone, new Elders are always advised. That likely the long ago Forager’s tale was the product of fatigue or Tree fever. We are unto our own forest universe here. If anything really does exist beyond it, 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 I 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 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 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 pocket and withdrew a small, handcrafted music box.
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 really hear her, 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 acquaintance.
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 mechanical 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 is this toy you have brought with you?”
Ardith drew closer. “It is a 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 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 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 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 Elder Elm, sensing that his old Tree eyes had grown wistful as if hearing again a tune that had been denied to his ears for quite some time. But how would Elder 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 a rapt 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 could be seen, there began to sparkle a soft shimmering, 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. 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 10th light, and as it lit, the tempo of the melody of the toy seemed not to dim, but 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 think 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 had never 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 a loud click, even. But no sound came forth. 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, 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 best 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 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 a quite 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 shown 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 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 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 come here often, you know. But never until now have I spied another living being. My name is Sadie. “
“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 it gently.
“”How could I be?” she said to me.
We met exactly nine more times, Sadie and I, every week, without fail, she’d 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 said, doted on her, so if his odd little girl had a penchant for dissecting frogs, and juggling petri dishes and test tubes, and enjoyed calculating physics equations, and had a knack for building complex engines, and liked to saw and whittle, why then, of course he'd see to it the rules were bent in his daughter’s favor… (to be continued…)
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…
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!