It was information overload, mashed together with a swirl of additional questions that absolutely terrified her. Primarily, if this was her mother, a creature of myth, and her father was a human, what did that make her?
“Why?” Leila said, her eyes shut. She opened them and stared at the dryad in the tree. “After all this time, why did you bring me here? Why keep talking to me? Why not just, I don’t know, speak clearly to me, like you did when I got close? What is it that you want, and why shouldn’t I turn around and never come back?”
“Leila,” Landon said, sounding surprised.
“What?” Leila snapped, immediately feeling sorry for the outburst. “Where was she all this time?” She turned back to Karayea. “Hm? And if you know who my father is, where was he? Why have I been bounced around through foster homes and dealt with terrible people my whole life, if you were right here? Right here!”
“We, myself and your aunts,” Karayea said, the word strange in her mouth, “we are bound to this patch of land. To this grove here. All dryads have their trees, their land that they are attached to. Speaking to you through the wind can only be done with more trees around. The farther away you are, the fewer trees connecting the wind, the harder it is to speak. It gets easier the closer you are, and the more trees nearby.”
The dryad closed her green eyes and let out a sigh, rustling the leaves in her hair and on the trees nearby, a soft breeze.
“I called for you many times, when I felt you might hear me, when I felt you closest to the trees. I wondered what became of my daughter, who once ran through the moss and sang with the birds. I called with what humans often call magic, but for us it is just a part of who we are.” Karayea breathed in deeply, and again, the leaves shook. “And now you are here, and we have been in trouble for quite some time, as I’m sure your friend can attest.”
Leila looked up at Landon, who shrugged.
“I’m not sure what you mean?” Landon asked.
“The mansion, the home near us,” Karayea said, nodding her head slowly in the direction behind Leila and Landon. “Soon men with monsters of steel and smoke will rip it down, and take our grove and neighboring trees with it. My sisters and I have heard them of late, quite often, as they walk through our woods speaking of their plans.”
The dryad grew quiet, and then looked right at Leila.
“It is to happen soon. And we will all perish.”
“The developers,” Landon said, nodding to Leila. “Like I told you about. They want to put a concert venue in here or something, but have had a hard time because of the historic building, the gardens, and some endangered native wildlife. A mouse, if you can believe that.”
Leila nodded. There were a lot of things she suddenly believed in.
“I’ve tried speaking up, at meetings over at City Hall and with the Fairmount Park Preservation Association, but no one comes back here. Sometimes it’s hard to fight for something no one really cares about.” His eyes widened and he looked back at Karayea. “No offense, er, ma’am.”
“There’s a reason the trees flourish around the humans here, dear children,” the dryad said, her tone serious. “As the land grew more toxic from your waste and carelessness, the soil grew harsh and barren. Without us, the trees surrounding this land will perish, and with us, so go all creatures. Including you.”
“I’m sorry, you control all the trees around Philadelphia?” Leila asked.
“Yes. That is the name of this place, according to what your father once told me,” Karayea said, nodding. “What remains of the wilderness, what remains grounded around the humans surrounded by smoke and death, it survives because of us, here in this grove. I need you to stop what the humans are planning, and rescue them from themselves. Your home will suffocate under your own breath.”
Leila looked up at Landon, who scratched the back of his head, and Milford reached around and nibbled the back of Landon’s head with his beak. He stopped when Landon did.
“I see you, too, are one with nature,” Karayea said, nodding softly at the owl on Landon’s shoulder. Milford perked up, squinting as he gazed at the dryad.
“Oh, him?” Landon asked, laughing nervously. “I dunno, I’m pretty sure if he actually had two wings, he’d just fly away. He’s here because he needs me.”
“Or because you need him,” Karayea said, smiling. “Or you need each other. You humans call it sym . . . bi . . . os . . . is.” She spoke as though she was pushing the complicated word out, each syllable coming out rough. “I’m sorry. Some of the words your father taught me, they are still difficult to say. It’s what we are, here in the woods, to the trees and you humans, even if none of you know it. Your people once did, but no longer. He taught me much about what was outside of this place, before he was taken from me.”
At this, Leila felt a rush of warmth.
“Taken?” she asked.
“Indeed,” the dryad said, sadly. “Shortly after you were born. No one believed him about us, about the grove. He’d told a few close to him, and was shunned. Soon, he no longer wore your colors.” She nodded at Landon, who looked back at her quizzically. “Those he served had, as he said, let him go.”
Landon gasped, his eyes wide.
“Wait, so he was a park ranger?” he said. “That’s what you’re saying. That’s what you mean about my colors or whatever.” He took off his jacket. “He wore something like this?”
“Much the same,” Karayea responded sadly.
“When did he . . .” Landon looked down at Leila, suddenly looking just as crestfallen as the dryad. “When did he leave? Disappear?”
“When Leila was but a sapling,” Karayea said with a soft smile on her face. “You took to the woods well, my child. But you needed school, he said. A life away from this small grove. Your father knew that. But at least I had two full cycles with you, here, in the woods and in my arms.”
“You were two when you entered into the system?” Landon asked.
“I think so,” Leila shrugged. “It’s not like I have any memories of back then. Who remembers anything from when they were babies or toddlers?”
Landon put his jacket back on and stared down at the ground, his eyes hard. Milford shifted about on his shoulder, appearing as uncomfortable as the silence.
“Landon?” Leila ventured. “What is it?”
“It might just be a coincidence,” Landon muttered, shaking his head. He looked down at Leila. “But I think I know who your father is.”
The wind rustled madly, and Leila shielded her face from the breeze. Milford flapped his single wing intensely against it.
“I tire, sweet children,” Karayea said. “Go, come back after the sun and moon have danced a few times. I must rest. All of this,” she sighed, rustling the leaves, “has taken much from me.” She looked up at Leila, her bright eyes green and focused.
“I’m counting on you. I believe in you. It isn’t about saving us. It’s about saving them.”
And with that, the bark around her sealed up, and the tall oak tree she dwelled in shook and grew still, as though nothing had even happened.
LEILA: Hey!
LEILA: So . . . I’m out with Landon, actually.
LEILA: There are . . . things to discuss.
SARIKA: Damn it must be going good.
SARIKA: ;-)
SARIKA: Hello?
SARIKA: Girl you okay, where are you?
LEILA: Hey!
LEILA: Everything’s fine, he’s fine, I’m fine.
LEILA: Phone is dying though.
LEILA: I’ll text you when I get home.
SARIKA: Yeah he is.
SARIKA: Fine, that is.
SARIKA: I can’t text with italics, but “yeah” should be in italics to emphasize his hotness.
LEILA: Oh my God.
LEILA: Nothing is happening with him like that.
LEILA: Adam’s tomorrow. Please.
SARIKA: I want all the details. All of them.
LEILA: You aren’t even ready.
SARIKA: That’s what he said. ;-)
LEILA: You need to stop this.
XIV