(Photo by David Bartus)

“Look out there and tell me what you see.”

Cobb’s voice was deep but not too loud. Even in the dead of winter there was the chance of waking them up and then there’d be trouble. He was tall and broad shouldered, and when he smiled it wasn’t always for the best of reasons but he’d kept them alive and in relative comfort for years now.

From where Aoife was sitting in the cart, a few paces behind Cobb, she could see the Walking Woods spreading out before her. A proud and powerful race of dryads lived there, but they were also kind and generally on good terms with her people. She said as much to answer Cobb’s question.

“That’s right,” he admitted, “but did you also know we live longer just by being near to them? Something in their sap, or the air they give us to breathe. Maybe it’s just their nature, being filled with life or something, that they radiate it outward like an aura. Either way, people don’t get as sick so often, they heal from injuries faster, and they live a good number of years longer.”

Aoife shifted her weight as she looked at the tools he’d had them carry to this place. The picks and shovels, the high walled cart and mules to pull it, even the large roll of burlap and rope now made a lot of sense to her but she was also appalled.

“We’re digging them up?” she asked even though she’d already figured it out.

“Of course we are,” Cobb rubbed his hands together to work some warmth back into his knuckles. “There’s people who’ll pay a fortune to have a few dryads transplanted into their private gardens.”

“But these are people, too,” Aoife shot back. She’d gone along with a lot of Cobb’s schemes but this was kidnapping.

“You ever actually talk to one of them before?” Cobb asked. When Aoife didn’t respond he nodded and went on talking as he grabbed a pick and began leading them closer to the treeline. “They’re not like you or me. They see the world differently. They care about growing, about beauty, and all of that. I bet they don’t really care about being here or in a nice garden so long as they can do what they do.”

Aoife thought she could make out their faces in some of the trees, asleep for the winter and not likely to stir unless there was a lot of noise or a fire or something else like that. Aoife could scream, and that might rouse some of them. Enough to chase Cobb off, perhaps, but what then? What would Aoife do? She couldn’t live on her own. She was barely big enough to drive the mules. Cobb was something like her big brother, though she didn’t know if they had any actual blood relation. They had always been together for as long as she could remember and he treated her well. Never shouted, never hit her, but he did insist on her helping him when he needed the help. Most of the time it was acting as a lookout or delivering messages since most people ignored a young girl in most places. Today felt different to Aoife and she knew her hands would be getting dirty on this job in more ways than one.

“Don’t they have friends and family?” Aoife asked.

Cobb just shrugged. “Maybe they do and maybe they don’t. Doesn’t matter to us since our job’s just to dig them up and get them to their new homes.”

With that, he began to swing, up and down with the pick, breaking the crust of snow and ice and frozen earth around the young tree he’d selected.

“They need to be young, see,” he explained between swings, “since their roots aren’t too deep yet. They also can’t fight back as easily as the older ones. And, of course, we can fit more of them into the cart.”

By the time there were five of them in the cart, Aoife was crying. She did it quietly, like how Cobb had taught her years ago, but she couldn’t stop the tears. Each hole in the ground, each tiny tree added to the cart with their young faces only just visible if you knew what to look for, was a reminder of something she herself could only just remember at times. It was hints, really, just impressions of a time when she was supposed to be sleeping, where she was safe, and then suddenly she was someplace else and then there was Cobb and…the memories were too distant, too vague to hold onto.

“Hey, you keeping an eye on them?” Cobb hissed and only then, when Aoife’s attention was back on the cart and it’s load did she notice a few twitching branches. “Get the gag on that one, quick!”

Aoife grabbed the strip of burlap Cobb had given her earlier and pulled it tight around the bark of the tree, covering the knot that made the creature’s mouth. As she cinched it tight, the eyes opened and the deep amber met Aoife’s green eyes. There was a moment of confusion, then the amber eyes looked around and realization dawned in them. It tried to cry out but the gag did its work and prevented it from making more than a muffled groan. Sap dripped like tears down its face but there was nothing more it could do. There was a faint blurring around the tree as the dryad tried to step out of itself but it was too young and too weak in the winter to manage it. If it were an older dryad it would have quickly stepped out of the tree and attacked them both.

“Cobb, this is wrong,” Aoife managed to say between silent sobs.

“Eh? What’s that?” Cobb asked as he hauled the next tree into the cart and began tying it down.

“Look at it, it’s scared. Can’t we put them back?”

“Are you crazy?” Cobb demanded. “You know what happens if we do that?”

Aoife shook her head, afraid as Cobb’s face turned redder and redder.

“We put them back then they’ll tell the others what we did,” Cobb hissed. “Once word gets out, then what do you think the Walking Woods will do? What’ll happen to that legendary peace between them and us, eh? That great trust? Shattered in an instant, all because you can’t stand to see a few drops of sap? You want to ruin all of that? And what about our buyers? You think those are people we can just go back to empty handed?”

“But what about when the others wake up?” Aoife asked. “Won’t they notice what’s happened?”

“Sure they will,” Cobb agreed, “but they won’t know exactly what happened or who did it. We’ll even fill in the holes and cover our tracks so, for all they know, the saplings might have wandered off on their own. It’s not unheard of for a grove of saplings to go on a mid-winter walkabout and get lost. That’s why there are communities of dryads in just about every other forests. Only the young ones can move about like that since their roots aren’t settled yet. So, keep your chin up, don’t worry about the folk here, and just help me get this load secured so we can finish this job and get our pay.”

Cobb didn’t wait for her to respond and just got back to work, digging up the next tree. But Aoife, she couldn’t look away from the pleading face, staring at her and begging silently for help. To buy herself more time to think, she asked Cobb the only question she could come up with.

“What if they leave the gardens and come back here?”

“They won’t,” Cobb laughed.

“Why not?”

“Because they can’t. They need dirt to walk through, so the gardens have stone walls and stone foundations.”

“What about when they get older and can leave their trees?”

“Even the ancients can’t go more than a few miles from their tree,” Cobb said as he leaned on the shovel and wiped sweat from his brow. “Look, these saplings will be fine. They’ll leak a little sap for a day or two, but then they’ll go back to sleep and in the spring, they’ll be fine. They’ll settle into their new homes and they’ll be loved and cared for. Okay? Get me some water, will you?”

Aoife was not convinced that these dryads would simply be okay with all of this being done to them but what could she do? As she lifted the lid of the water barrel on the side of the cart to get Cobb a drink, an idea finally came to her. She dipped the ladle into the cold water, breaking the thin layer of ice that had formed on the top, and poured it into a cup. Cobb accepted it and downed it in one fluid motion. He made a face as the cold water hit is teeth but then he handed back the cup and got back to work.

As soon as she was sure Cobb was focused on digging again, she turned her attention to the water barrel. It was held into the side of the cart by heavy leather straps that could be unbuckled so they could be taken down to be more easily refilled or replaced as needed. Cobb had given her a small dagger years ago and trained her how to use it in case she ever needed to defend herself. She kept it sharp but rarely ever drew it. Now, she slipped it out of the hidden sheath on her back and began cutting the strap. She had to work with her back to the strap so she could hide what she was doing from Cobb in case he looked her way but the sharp blade bit easily into the old leather.

The moment she felt the strap beginning to fail, she put her dagger away as quick as she could. A second later the strap snapped and the water barrel crashed to the ground, cracking loudly and spilling its water. Aoife used that as an excuse to scream out, as though surprised by the noise. She didn’t allow herself a long scream since she knew that would be too obvious. Even still, the it was enough. The mules, spooked by the crashing barrel and Aoife’s scream, added their own brief whinnies of concern and pulled at the cart, knocking the young dryads against each other and making even more noise.

Cobb was frozen, a look of terror and surprise on his face, as he stared at Aoife in the cart. She knew he was trying to figure out what had happened to make the water barrel fall. Did he suspect her? Did he already know? Cobb looked like he was about to spring into motion when the first dryad stepped out of their tree.

They were far more human-like when they were out of their trees and this one had long flowing hair like willow boughs. It took in the scene before it in an instant, seeing Cobb with the shovel in hand, the young saplings in the cart. It speared Cobb through the chest, killing him instantly. Aoife screamed again at the sight. She hadn’t expected such an immediate and violent response. At most she’d expected them to chase her and Cobb away.

The dryad turned to Aoife, Cobb sliding off the arm he’d been speared by and slumping onto the ground. She’d never been this close to a dryad before and she felt as though the small berries that were its eyes could look right into her soul.

“I didn’t know what he was going to do,” Aoife said, worried that the dryad would kill her too. “I woke you up so you could stop him.”

The dryad nodded but still did not speak. Instead, it lifted the saplings, one by one, out of the cart and placed them back where they belonged. Their bonds were snapped and the one who’d been gagged gave her a look of gratitude.

More dryads were awake now and there were dozens gathered around by the time the last of the saplings were back in the ground. There were more tears as the saplings, all having awoken from Aoife’s first scream, were comforted by the adult dryads who were breaking up the frozen ground so the saplings could nestle back into the ground as easily as possible.

They’ve done this before, haven’t they

The dryad spoke and Aoife wasn’t sure if she heard it in her mind or with her ears. Either way, she also knew it wasn’t a question. Even still, she answered them.

“I don’t know, but how else would people know so much about what happens when they live near a dryad?”

We engender all life around us to flourish, the dryad replied. Now we will guard our borders. We will lie in wait for any who would take from our forests in this manner. They will nourish our soil with their corpses.

Aoife shuddered as her mind got a brief glimpse of what the dryad had in mind. She waved to them and then quickly grabbed the reigns to begin her journey back home. The mules took a few steps before the cart halted with a jerk and a terrible noise of splintering wood. Aoife looked back and saw half of the cart was already destroyed. The dryads were pulling it apart with their powerful arms. More of them were getting ahead of her and the mules were nervously trying to avoid them.

“What are you doing?” Aoife cried out. “I need to go home now. I helped you, so please let me go!”

The first mule died by having it’s head speared though. The second died by having its heart speared.

We have seen your mind and your life, they said to her as they drew in closer. What would your life become without the man we slew? You would suffer and wither on the vine, unable to draw in the nutrients you need to live. We are not without mercy in this action. We also cannot let anyone know of what has transpired here. Just as those who desire our offspring wish to do so in secret, so too do we desire to defend ourselves in secret. It is preferable than the alternative of all out war.

“Please don’t kill me,” Aoife’s knees were too weak for her to even try to run away, as though she could ever outpace a dryad who could outrun the wind.

Behind her, the cart was still being broken apart and then buried to conceal the fact that it had ever been there. Cobb was already gone from view and she was grateful for that. She’d seen dead people before, but Cobb was always careful to keep her from seeing the worst of it.

You are like the nestling who’s fallen from the bough, the dryad said, still coming closer to Aoife with a terrible inevitability. You will not survive on your own, and there is no one to carry you back into your nest.

“I could stay here,” Aoife was becoming desperate now as the mules were tilled into the soil right in front of her. “I could live in the forest.”

What do we know of raising your kind? The dryad asked, now only a few inches from Aoife as it reached for her. What berries here are food for you and what ones are poison? Can you eat your meat raw or will you burn our bodies to cook it? How will you dress yourself, or find shelter? No, this is no place for you.

Aoife opened her mouth to respond but no sound came out. She looked down and saw the dryad’s arm going straight into her chest. There was no pain.

This is a mercy. Be at peace now, brave one, and we will hold your memory in honor. You have warned us of a threat we had only intimations of. Now we know. Now we will defend ourselves.

A ripple spread throughout the woods as the normally sleeping dryads awoke and began to make their plans, not only to protect themselves but also on how to return that which had been taken from them. There would be retribution upon those responsible for this theft in the days to come. Cobb was the first but he would not be the last to feel the stab of a dryad.

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