Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
GILLIA
Caring for a human is…complicated. Most of what I know about them comes from stories I’ve heard about dryad-human connections. Who knows how much of any of that was even true? My kind tends to exaggerate a little.
There’s the easy stuff, like keeping her warm and dry. But there are also some…let’s call them complications. Like, what am I supposed to feed her? I’ve seen a few things over the years, spied on enough campers to know food is essential. It’s the what that’s a problem.
If I kill something for her, I’ll have a mutiny on my hands.
Many forest dwellers, both flora and fauna, are already upset about the current situation.
Allowing a human into my home isn’t something that happens often.
Or ever. The trunk of my tree is thick, but it doesn’t keep out the whispers and gossip.
Word of our little adventure is reaching far beyond this forest, traveling in all directions from Vermont.
In a few short days, the news will have reached the redwoods of California.
Those busybodies will have a field day with this.
When I stepped out briefly earlier, I was met with a chorus of questions, all of which boiled down to the same single ask: Am I keeping Sadie as my mate?
How was I supposed to answer something like that?
Especially while she was still unconscious.
It did make for a good excuse. But she’s awake now, and I still don’t have a good answer.
All I have is my inclination. If it were up to me, I’d say yes in a heartbeat.
I want her, but that’s not enough. First, I have to convince Sadie that she’s my mate.
Then talk her into staying here, in the wilderness, with me.
Neither of those conversations is going to be easy, no matter what the chipmunks say.
As much as I want her to be mine, she has to want it too.
The stories of dryads charming humans into being their mates are partially true.
I have some persuasive influence, but most of the cases are exaggerated.
Made up by humans who can’t believe their friend chose to stay in the forest instead of returning to their usual life.
We’ve been sitting quietly together, Sadie with her back against the wall and me sitting on the bed.
She must have many questions, but she’s either too frightened or too overwhelmed to ask.
As the sun starts to set, I can sense the shift in the forest, a new group of critters and plants awakening and hearing the tale of the lost hiker for the first time.
It’s going to be a loud night.
“Are you…hungry?” I ask, still unsure of what I’ll do if she says yes.
“I’m fine,” Sadie says, right before her stomach growls. Her face turns red as she places a hand over her belly. “Maybe a little.”
“I don’t have any food.” I wince at the admission.
If she chooses me, I’ll be able to bring her offerings from the forest as much as she needs to fill her belly many times over.
Those privileges are for dryads and their mates only.
No matter how much I might want them to, they don’t extend to the gorgeous ranger.
“I have some stuff I can eat. Do you mind?” She reaches for her backpack, opens the main pocket, and rifles through the odds and ends.
What kinds of food can she carry that way?
It amazes me how wide a range of options exists, based on what I’ve seen over the years.
It used to be that folks who managed to get this far into the wilderness survived off the land.
These days, I see people with all sorts of packable goodies.
The worst of them toss the wrappers onto the forest floor, as though there is some custodial service that comes through here and does cleanup.
I have my own way of dealing with them. A few adjustments to ensure they lose the trail or never see the bird they’re looking for. Some days, I wish I could do more, punish the way my ancestors could. Now, we’re all about coexistence. At least that’s the word on the wind.
“Go ahead.” I wave my hand in her direction, unable to take my eyes off her as she pulls out a brightly colored bag.
“It’s a trail mix,” she says, obviously reading the confusion on my face. “I make it myself so I can put all my favorites in.”
I can’t help but stare as she puts a few pieces into her mouth. As she chews, she hums softly. Even from across the room, I can smell the sweetness of it—mostly things I don’t recognize, but a few plants and seeds that are familiar to me.
“Do you want to try it?” Sadie reaches into the bag and pulls out a handful of the snack.
It’s hard to see the small items at this distance, so I move a little closer. It’s the shortest distance I’ve been from her since she found me along the wall. Her scent, a mix of earthy tones, wafts toward me. “What is it?”
“This one,” she says, pointing to a light-colored piece, “is a peanut. I’ve also got walnuts, Chex, yogurt-covered pretzels, and my favorite, M she simply crawls into bed and lets me pull the bear skin over her before slipping in beside her.
I watch as she slips into sleep—her eyes heavy, blinking and staying closed a little longer each time. Eventually, they stay that way. It’s easy to relax like this, listening to her rhythmic breathing, until I let myself drift off as well.