It was many days and nights of travel before the mist finally lifted and I truly was able to see where I had arrived. I emerged from the last tendrils of the Hollow in a lush and rolling jungle whose beauty was arresting. Endless fields of trees with foliage of searing emerald green, a bright blue sky punctuated with clouds, flowers of every shape and size. The animals were a riot of color as well, from birds with plumage the color of every rainbow, to great predatory cats with coats covered in spots and stripes. Great horned frogs hunted the rivers and lakes. Apes with dappled fur stalked through the trees. Once, I spotted something that was partway between one of the furred mammoths of Svarlskell, but bare of fur and with ears like flowers. The jungle was life in all of its chaotic beauty. Chala had taught me to survive her, and I did more. I thrived.

I dug tubers out of the rich black earth. I ate delicate flowers and succulent fruit from the vine. I hunted the colorful birds that strutted through the undergrowth. I was as comfortable as one could be in such savage conditions, and I knew a sense of happiness.

Yes, it was not true happiness. I whispered lies to myself to silence the naysaying voice in my mind. I would not know true happiness until I could feel the quiet lightning of Zhahllaia's touch, or Sarakiel's fragrant embrace. Here, I found the deception far easier. Call it instead contentment of a kind. My abilities had progressed to the point that I could exist comfortably outside the bounds of human civilization. It was a daily challenge, but one I could meet.

I never slept in the same place twice. Chala had called me a hunter, and hunters moved. I believed her when she called me that, more than I believed Iura or Xogra's views on me. Iura had called me a lover, and that did not apply when I was so far from my loves. Xogra had called me a lord, asked that I have purpose, but in this place, there was no purpose other than simple survival.

The heat in the jungle was oppressive, a sultry blanket that pulled the strength from my limbs. Rain was frequent, gray clouds gathering in the sky and dumping rivers for half a day, before vanishing back into the blue. I was grateful for the gifts of the boots and loincloth, for they were the only things that I could have worn without discomfort.

One day I found myself climbing a small slope along a narrow game trail. I emerged on the shore of a lake. The trees were gone, all along the eastern, western, and northern shore. Stumps ran along both sides, creating a bald spot in the jungle. Only a single grove still stood. On the south side of the lake, these trees were densely packed. Beyond the northern edge, a column of greasy black smoke stained the sky.

The water of the lake carried an evil smell like a campfire fed with rotten wood. I was thirsty, and retrieved my sweetwater goblet from the fold in the loincloth. It was still new, and the sudden reveal of a silver cup encrusted with old sea life from a fold in a garment formerly flat against me, still impressed. I knelt and dipped the goblet into the water. It filled, the gray water turned clear, its scent now sweet and pure. I put it to my lips and it was the most refreshing water I had ever tasted, a pleasant mineral kiss that rejuvenated me. Such was the magic of the goblet. The most useful object it has ever been my privilege to own. Gratitude to Thalalei for the gift bloomed in my chest.

I dipped the goblet into the lake several more times, peering about in either direction as I slaked my thirst. The grove caught my eye, as it was still standing. The destruction of the forest ended there, but that grove was like a finger poking into the devastation.

I replaced the goblet in the fold of my loincloth. Curiosity drove me from my spot. Such a strange impulse, isn't it? Not quite a virtue, not quite a flaw. I have it even now, in my old age, driving me to investigate the mysteries of this newly changed world. It was that demand that pulled me to the northwestern edge where a small river fed the lake.

Though my curiosity can be foolish, it is never reckless. I did not trust this field of destruction nor this dead lake. I went to the mouth of the river and crossed the flat rocks. I saw no sign of life in the water. The field of dead stumps stretched along both banks, reaching deeper into the jungle on the east side. This place was dead, and I saw behind that death an intelligent hand.

I made my way up to the ridge that paralleled the stream on the western bank, and though it made for a harder walk, put a screen of trees between me and the smoke. I followed the river for a mile or two before I came to the source of the column staining the sky.

A mill stood by the side of the river, the current turning its paddlewheel. A forge leaned next to it, belching greasy black smoke into the sky. A stable and another long building completed the cluster of structures on the south end of the encampment. A mine opened in the middle of the settlement, near a single watchtower. I watched filthy humans pulling rocks from the mines and transporting them to the mill under the watchful gaze of hobgoblins. Another cluster of buildings, one a long barracks and the rest smaller huts, made up the northern edge. The settlement was encircled in a wooden fence, ending at the river on the west, with a single gate on the eastern end.

Thanks to my lessons from Xogra, I recognized the powdery yellow stone the humans pulled from the ground and refined in the mill. Brimstone. They were harvesting the prime ingredient of demon powder.

The humans were short and ill-nourished. They had brown skin with a bronze cast to it, straight black hair and slanted eyes. They were nude, with a few marked by bands of tattoos around their limbs, or simple lines below their mouths. Their ribs stood out against their flesh, and they moved with downcast eyes and slouched shoulders.

The hobgoblins were a brighter green than the ones I remembered in Rhandonia, but they were recognizably the same people. They had the appearance of gracile orcs, lean where orcs were burly, their faces longer, their jaws smaller. These wore cloth kilts, pauldrons, bracers, and greaves, all with plates sewn in strategic places to make light and effective armor. They were armed with axes and shields, and some carried whips.

Greasy streaks of black ran from the mill and down into the river. Had they not cut the jungle away, the river would have killed the trees as effectively as their axes. This place was a blight. I would not leave such a place on the earth, and I crouched there, considering what I might do. Ur-Anu was powerful, and I was formidable, but there were too many hobgoblins to simply charge in and begin the slaughter.

My jungle-sharpened senses heard heavy tread coming up the game trail behind me. I rose, turning easily, curious about what would come next.

A pair of hobgoblins stepped around the bend in a path and paused as they saw me standing in their way. Their eyes widened in confusion, and then narrowed as they took what might have confused them and placed it into the understandable category of prey. They likely saw me as a potential slave, taller and broader than the ones they had. They were armed and armored like the guards in the camp, and though one of them glanced at Ur-Anu, grasped loosely in my hand, he did not seem overly concerned that I too was armed.

One spoke to the other in a language I did not recognize. The other responded. Then the first raised his voice, speaking directly to me. When I didn't respond to the unfamiliar words, they had another brief conversation. The first tried another language. Then, after a moment of consideration, in halting Eomet managed, "Spear down."

Understanding must have rippled over my features. The hobgoblin repeated the order as his partner brought up his axe and shield, as though to show what the consequences of disobedience would be. Put down the spear and be enslaved, or keep the spear and be killed.

"Spear down!" he said again, readying his axe.

I dispatched them both without much ceremony. Neither one carried much of interest on him, save for a bit of dried meat of unknown origin. I left them where they lay.

It was growing late, the blue of the sky fading to a fiery orange and pink. I followed the trail back to the grove, refreshed myself with more of the water and made my way into the shade of the trees. They were impressive specimens, with great root structures like foothills rising to thick trunks that proliferated into vast and reaching branches. I had grown used to these kinds of trees as they often provided me with places to spend the night moderately safer than the jungle floor.

These particular trees were at once paragons of the type and withering unto death. They had grown big and strong, but leaves had started to fall from their branches and their trunks were flaky and weeping. The tree in the center of the grove was a titan. The healthiest of them, it was still in poor shape. It must have been an incredible sight in its prime. It was still humbling and beautiful in its diminished state. A cold rage filled my tissues, but I would wait to feed it.

I climbed the central tree, up over the canopy onto a thick branch, where I had a commanding view of the lake. In the distance, the fires from the settlement glowed. I leaned back in the crook of a branch, my finely honed sense of balance taking over, and listened to the jungle settle into the lush night.

As the sun sank below the trees and the fires burned brighter on the horizon, a shape moved below me. I thought at first it was one of the creatures of the forest, coming out to drink water it did not know was poison.

The shape paused partway out into the lake and raised arms over its head. Human arms. I peered into the dark, wondering if this was a hobgoblin strayed farther from his home than usual. Then the shape turned, and I saw the curve of breasts. Moonlight spilled in a line of quicksilver over the water. She was a shadow.

Her figure was voluptuous, with heavy breasts and rounded hips. She stayed thigh-deep in the water for a time, arms up, as though worshiping the moon. I remained poised in the tree. Finally, she made her way back to the shore, her movement barely leaving a wake, and I lost sight of her as she drew close to the grove. Though she made no sound, she could only be coming back to the trees below. Perhaps that was where she had left her clothing.

I secured Ur-Anu into the sheath at my back and clambered down as quietly as I was able. The grove was pitch black and I could see nothing. I listened, but none of the sounds that reached me could have come from a woman. It was merely the skitter of small creatures through the undergrowth, the sigh of wind through leaves, and the gentle lap of water onto the shore.

I waited there, thinking she would betray herself, but she didn't. After a time, I climbed back up to my perch, settled back and let sleep claim me.

I awoke at down and made my way down to the lake. While I drank my fill, I found no evidence of the woman I had seen the night before. Though I was Chala's hunter, I was not far enough away from Iura's lover to not be entranced by her. I went out to forage, making a wide loop about the lake, down where the jungle was still strong and healthy. As long as I put enough distance between me and the blight, I could find the staples that had sustained me for so long.

When I returned to the grove, shapes moved about on the ridge where I had slain both hobgoblins. I put myself in the shadows and watched. I counted ten hobgoblins, all ready for battle, moving about the area where I'd left the bodies. As I watched, they split into pairs and spread out, most disappearing from my sight. One pair made their way down the shore of the lake, heading inexorably for the grove.

I momentarily thought to kill the two of them as well, but then I realized that would betray my hiding spot. I melted into the trees, thinking they would pass by on their way around the lake. I was wrong. These two hobgoblins paused at the edge of the grove and spoke in their language. I noted one was a woman, a scar running down over her left eye.

After a short conversation, the two of them made their way into the trees. The urge to slay them both and be done with it returned. Ur-Anu sensed this, showing me innumerable threads of their fate. I could dispatch them without any danger to myself, but that was not what I feared. I had to remind myself that if the patrol who came here vanished, the hobgoblins would send more. I moved back into the deeper shadows, willing these two to move on.

These hobgoblins would not be dissuaded. They peered into the shade, and I knew they would see me soon enough. I retreated farther and farther into the shadows. I was rapidly running out of places to go. They would push me out of the back of the grove, and there, on the slope leading down into the jungle, I would be seen. There was only one place to hide.

I scampered up the tree as quickly as I could, returning to the place I had slept. As long as I remained still, I was invisible from the ground. There I waited, pressed against the great trunk, willing the hobgoblins to move off. Yet they did not give up. They moved around the grove below, covering every inch. It felt like forever, but eventually, I could hear them cover every part of that grove.

The next time I heard them speak, they were directly below me. While I did not leave tracks up a tree, the handholds I had taken were obvious. I waited there, breathing silently, listening for the moment they moved off. But the next time I heard one of them, the voice was coming from the trunk of the tree. The hobgoblin was climbing.

I was trapped. Now even if I did manage to kill one, the other would have ample time to flee, raise the alarm, and draw the lot to me. While two was nothing, four would be trouble, six would be dangerous, and eight might mean my death. That was before however many at the settlement came. There would be no other choice. Silently, I reached over my shoulder and pulled Ur-Anu from its sheath. The threads showed me the path, the hobgoblin making it to the branch, and a hundred different ways to kill her before she could react, but the other would escape.

The hobgoblin made her way closer and closer, calling down to her comrade periodically. I readied myself to introduce her to Fate.

And then, the world went dark and close. I felt warm and fibrous walls all around me, shuddering like a throat, pushing me down. The air was heavy, the scent bright and green, but with edges of the black of the lake. The weight crushed me, my breath growing weak. Then, suddenly air flooded into my lungs, and I fell a short distance to the floor. It was soft, like the material that had once held me.

A light bloomed, gentle at first. It was the glow of moonlight on still water. It came from tiny glowing orbs that fell slowly from the ceiling of this chamber to wink out at the floor, like a gentle rain. Though I could breathe again, my wind stuck in my throat when I saw what was illuminated.

A woman was in the far wall, gently laying within a depression in the wood. Vines snaked over her smooth skin, I could not see how she was held up, merely that she was. She watched me with wide, slanted moss-green eyes. Her skin was the brown of bark, her hair was a cascade of soft vines, alive with leaves. Her body was that of the figure I saw the previous night, voluptuous with full breasts and round hips. A triangle of vivid green moss waited between her thick thighs. Her features were similar to the humans I had seen in the town, with a wide nose, lovely fat lips, and a wide mouth.

As beautiful as she was, I saw elements of the blight upon her as well. In places, her skin had taken a grayish cast. Her hair was thin, and gave me the impression of missing leaves. Even her eyes lacked a certain luster.

I recognized what she was. This could only be a dryad. A rare creature, and dangerous. The stories were that they seduced travelers who vanished into the woods never to be seen again. Though I had always heard of them in the deep forests of Rhandonia, it stood to reason they might exist in dense jungles. Anywhere the trees grew tall and wild, dryads might naturally occur.

Outside, muffled through the thick trunk, I heard the hobgoblins. The thuds of the one climbing, and the murmur of their voices as they talked. They were closer than they had ever been, and yet I was in the one place they could not search.

A vine came from the wall, snaking in front of her full lips. She mimed shushing me, but the only sound was a soft hiss of wind through leaves.

I nodded. Though I had Ur-Anu in hand, I did not brandish it at her. I waited, silently in this chamber at the heart of the tree, staring at this alluring creature. Perhaps she wanted me dead, but I did not believe so. I hoped she saw in me the wildness of the hunter. The person Chala had helped make me.

I do not know how long we spent in silence, staring at one another and listening to the hobgoblins. Eventually, the thuds stopped and the voices receded. We waited in silence for a few moments longer.

The dryad smiled, showing teeth of wood. Her eyes were weary, but she pursed her lips in a kiss. Before I could respond, the tree swallowed me again, and I was in that dark green place. This time the trip was shorter, and I was in the dappled sunlight, air flooding my lungs. I lay amongst the roots of the great tree, all evidence of my passage gone.

A plan had come to me, but it would have to wait for nightfall. In the meantime, I climbed back up onto my perch and waited, watching the various hobgoblin patrols as they disappeared and reappeared amongst the trees. No others strayed close to the grove. Perhaps they knew its power, or perhaps they did not think it important.

As night fell, I climbed down from my perch. I stripped out of my boots and loincloth, and hid them, along with Ur-Anu, among the roots of the dryad's tree. I judged them safer there than anywhere else.

My mind had caught on the idea that I needed to see the settlement more closely, but I could not pose as a slave. I looked nothing like the people there, and I certainly would not pass as a hobgoblin. No one wore enough clothing for a passable disguise. I was forced to try something else.

I took mud from the bank of the river and smeared the evil smelling stuff over my body from head to toe. When I was finished, I was filthy and I stank, but I was nigh invisible in darkness and the stench was that of the blighted lake.

Now disguised, I made my way up the path along the eastern side of the lake, hewing close to the trees, ready to slip into the undergrowth at a moment's notice. As the gate of the settlement came into view lit by the torches held by the slouching watchmen outside, I ducked into the trees. Another flame flickered from the watchtower, and through the dark I could detect the shadow of a pair of guards moving about on the makeshift cupola atop it.

I slinked through the jungle, out of the reach of the fires, rounding the wall to approach the settlement from its north side. Out of sight of the front gate, I hugged the wall until I found the gap by the river, and here, I slipped inside.

Beyond the guards at the gate and the pair in the watchtower, another pair walked a circuit around the settlement. These were more vigilant than the ones at the gate, and I wondered how much of that was thanks to the discovery of two of their fellows in the woods. I could regret the impulse that drove me to slay those two, but I did not, even if perhaps it made this more difficult.

I wove through the maze of huts on the north side, drawing closer to the barracks. The patrol was not following me, but the fingers of their torches continually reached for me, and I knew that if the light found me, their eyes would follow.

Peering into the huts, I found hobgoblins, some sleeping, others maintaining their weapons or armor, and in one case a pair enthusiastically rutting. None noticed the mud-smeared ghost that lingered at their window for a moment and vanished into the night.

The patrol was only a hut away, and I slinked around the far side, pressed into the wall. The flicker of their torches came close, hurling dancing shadows over every surface. I let them pass, moving in the direction of the mine.

I sneaked around the front of the building, watching the patrol pass the mine. Above, the guards in the watchtower were mere shadows. I peeked through the doorway of the barracks. The humans were inside. They lay on the boards, a few rushes providing a scant bit of comfort. They slept on the floor, some weeping softly, others murmuring. Each wore a manacle about their right ankle, a chain linking one to another. A pair of hobgoblins guarded them, though one was dozing in his chair and the other did not look like he would be awake long.

I glanced up at the watchtower again. The shadows were in different places, but the hobgoblins had not raised the alarm. I scurried to the edge of the mine and instantly recoiled. Even covered in the mud, the stench of brimstone billowing from the entrance was too much. My gorge rose and I tamped it down, retreating to the south edge of the camp, where the patrol now wound through the buildings. The mill rose here, on the western edge, paralleling the river, the wheel turning with the current. A rudimentary forge had been built here as well, racks of weaponry and armor plates waiting for users. An unmarked building proved to be a warehouse, holding crates of refined brimstone.

There are those who will wonder why I didn't put the torch to the brimstone right then. Yes, it is an important ingredient of demon powder, but it is far from the only one. Brimstone on its own burns slow and hot, but it needs a quickener to become demon powder. I left the brimstone where it was, a further plan crystallizing within my mind.

I left the warehouse, pausing at the stables that held a few of the evil breed of horses hobgoblins favor. They snorted and pawed the ground, distressed by the presence of one who did not belong. The patrol was moving past on its way to the north end of the camp, the two watchmen speaking to one another, but keeping their attention out into the dark.

One paused, looking at the horses while they snorted. I didn't need to speak the hobgoblin tongue to know what he said then. The two of them moved closer. I glanced to the forge, wondering if I could get my hands on a blade and slay the watchmen before they raised the alarm. Without Ur-Anu showing me the threads, I did not know. The forge felt too far, the weapons within not nearly sharp enough.

I inched around the stables, shying away from the dancing torch. I was never more acutely aware of the fact that I was unarmed. Naked, in fact. One of them held an axe and torch, the shield across his back. The other held both weapon and shield in hand. The forge once again beckoned, but I dismissed it. I thought of Fate, now hidden amongst the roots of the dryad's tree. It would have made this so easy, and it was the reason I left it behind. I did not want to be lured into a fight I could not win.

I pressed myself into the wood as the hobgoblins approached. I watched the golden light reaching over the muddy soil, fingers groping for me. I was utterly still, my breathing shallow. My heart thundered in my chest. I wondered if they would hear it. The hobgoblins stayed there forever and a day, while my blood turned to ice.

Then, without further ceremony, they turned, going up the path between the wall and the forge. I moved quickly around the far side of the stable, going close to the base of the tower. I sprinted over the open ground, desperate to be in the safety of the trees once more. I found the hole in the wall and made my way through. When I had a screen of vegetation between me and the settlement's wall, I breathed deeply. I knew now what this place was.

I took the long way around once again, emerging from the wood onto the path only when I was far out of view of the gate guards. The mud had dried on my skin, forming a gritty crust over me. I found the lake, the moon shining brightly.

I stepped into the water. It was cool on my skin. The stench stung my nostrils, but after tasting the foul air of the mine, I could stand it. I waded out, then knelt, dunking my head in the foulness, cleaning off the clumps that had accumulated in my hair and beard. The water left behind a gritty residue, irritating the crevices of my body. I was cleaner than I had been, and this was the best I would be until I could bathe in the river above the mine. Satisfied that I had washed the mud from me, I paused as motion from the direction of the grove.

The dryad walked out into the lake as she had done before, a languid movement, her hips rocking back and forth in a seductive dance. Her eyes were fixed on me, and her expression was halfway between bliss and pain. I stood now, the water rising to the middle of my thighs. I tensed, ready perhaps to fight. Yes, I believe I had a truce with her, but the tales I had heard had left their mark upon my mind. They were stewards of the wild places, and avengers when necessary. Perhaps she recognized me as a friend. Perhaps nature was too savage for such considerations.

She stopped only a few feet from me. My gaze went from her full thighs, to the moss between them, to her belly, where her navel was like a knothole. Then above, to her breasts, the nipples a darker brown. Her shapely shoulders were next, caressed by the vines of her hair. I could see now the grain of wood in her skin.

"Good evening," I said in Abbih, as good a greeting as any. I did not think she would understand the words, but I felt the need to speak them. I still could not manage Rhandic, and this would be enough. "I am Ashuz. A friend."

She cocked her head, reaching out to me. Her fingers were graceful, tipped in thorns like talons. They brushed over my chest, raising an electric sensation in their wake. Her eyes remained fixed upon mine, but then widened in surprise, as her light explorations found something. Her attention fell to my chest, a frown of surprise and interest creasing her lovely features.

She took another step. Were she human, or elf, ghoul, or any other race of flesh, I would have felt her breath on me, but all I could feel was the kiss of a breeze through the trees. Her other hand came to my chest, the nails running over the skin. She traced patterns upon my skin, so lightly that all I felt was the light kiss of her touch. She had found something, but I did not know what.

I found myself growing aroused, my staff hardening. Her touch drew the need from me, and I was inflamed. I wanted to take her. Her explorations descended down my chest, to my belly. My staff strained, desperate to feel her touch upon the turgid flesh.

Finally, one of her fingers traced over me. The sharp thorns, barely kissing my skin pulled a happy sigh from my lips. She looked up at me in surprise, cocking her head. She ran the talons over me again, just as light as last time. This time, my sigh came with a grin.

She returned my smile, the touch spiraling over me. Then, she wrapped her hands about my length, once again gauging my reaction. When she saw me pleased, she gave me a stroke from root to crown. Her touch was gentle. Though her skin was wood, it felt as soft as flesh, but firm. As she worked, a bead of my juices appeared at the head of me. Curious, she finished a stroke by running thumb over it. She brought her hand up to her face. After a second of consideration, her tongue, the pale beige of heartwood, ran over the pad of her thumb.

Her eyes widened. She looked to me, licking her brown lips. She knelt before me in the water, taking my staff in hand. She leaned in, licking the underside of me, up to the head, where she swirled again over the tip, collecting the next bead of nectar that had collected there.

I watched as a leaf pushed itself from a strand of her hair, struggling to be born. It was a tiny bloom, a sign of Spring in her hair. She continued to lick, stoking the pleasure in me like a seed ready to sprout, and after every stroke, as she took more of my juice, another leaf emerged.

Soon, she was no longer satisfied with one leaf. She took me in her hungry mouth. Her tongue, soft and wet, danced over me as she sucked. The sensation was a knight's kiss, performed with skill, as a pleasant breeze washed over me. I felt as though she would suck the seed of pleasure from me, and as it was born, kiss it with lifegiving rain.

This time, each bob of her head produced more leaves. As she coaxed me to blooming, she too bloomed. She came to life as she took me in her mouth again and again. I felt the seed of my own bliss fighting through the soil, and I wondered if she and I would bloom at the same time.

I placed a hand on her head, wanting to feel what it was for a dryad to bloom. Vines twined around my fingers as more leaves pushed their way out. She sucked me deeper, past the edge of her mouth, taking me into her throat. The evil smell that had troubled me receded into the background as she lovingly polished my spear.

I began to thrust against her, and she did not mind. Her tongue was active, swirling all over me as she took me in and out. I could hit the back of her throat without trouble, and I knew that her insides were wood, the same as the outside, but soft and warm and wet.

As she moved off me, I began to feel her saliva. It was bright and sweet-smelling, just the slightest bit sticky. Her hands went from my staff to my hips, allowing her mouth to do the work, her long fingers curving about my buttocks, the tips of her thorny talons brushing against the soft skin. Her head kept bobbing, taking me all the way, then retracting, her tongue ruthlessly collecting every bit of my nectar. She would pause at the head of me for a lick, then once again take me to the throat.

The bliss built inside me with the same inexorability as my rage had once filled my belly. The first leaves of my bliss pushed through the soil. I fought against it, wanting to prolong the lovely work she was doing, her hungry mouth bringing me to life.

As she sucked, I watched her skin lose some of its gray. The water around us began to clear, taking the grit that had once covered me away. I stroked the vines of her hair, the leaves caressing my hands, the tendrils lacing between my fingers.

I felt more upon me, a brush over my thighs, hips, and buttocks. I found that vines had grown from her, the same kind that had held her to the wall of her chamber within the tree. Now they were growing across me. I felt no fear, even as they went between the hemispheres of my buttocks.

A vine probed at my own rosebud, and with a shock of pleasure, it was inside me. It undulated, massaging me in this most intimate of places as her mouth continued its busy work over my staff. The feel of her instantly swelled the bliss inside me, and now I was desperately holding it back from sprouting. I had to prolong this incredible sensation. My fingers tightened in her hair, and I could no longer stop myself from thrusting against her, impaling her mouth with my sex.

The vine inside me swelled, and she swallowed me. I could no longer stop myself. In a conflagration of flowers, my bliss sprouted, unfolding its leaves to the blessed sun. I felt her swallowing as I pumped web after web of my seed. More came than I thought possible, but she took every last bit.

Before my amazed eyes, purple flowers bloomed in her hair. Her skin was a lustrous brown, her leaves emerald green. Even in the moonlight, I could see the profound difference in her. She had been brought back to life, more beautiful than I thought possible.

She stood, the water sliding off me. Her lips parted in a smile. I reached out to her, already wanting more.

"Take me to your tree. We will continue this," I promised. I wondered what I could do with a night of love. How much more I could make her bloom. Could I heal her grove? This forest?

But the dryad did not understand, or else she had her fill. She turned about, making her way to shore. Her hips swayed, showing delicious buttocks, full and fat despite being made of wood. I watched her disappear into the grove, and I found myself smiling. I washed the last of the grit from my body in the newly clean water and followed her.

She was nowhere to be found, but I was certain that her tree had new growth upon it, new leaves and flowers. I retrieved my things, still right where I had left them, climbed to my perch. I settled back, tired and happy. Sleep soon claimed me.

I awoke to the greasy smoke on the horizon. Whatever good our coupling in the water had done the previous night had been undone by morning. The lake was once again black. I donned my meager clothing and put Ur-Anu in its sheath before climbing down to the grove's floor. I ate a bit from my stores before setting out through the woods in the direction of the settlement.

It was not long before I encountered a patrol. I heard them on the path and I hunkered down among the undergrowth beyond a screen of trees, Fate in my hand. I saw them first as shadows on the path, a pair of hobgoblins exchanging quiet words to one another. They were on their guard, likely the murder of their friends still at the forefront of their minds.

I waited until they passed and then slipped in behind them. As I approached, one happened to look at the other and catch a glimpse of me. He called out, turning and readying his weapon. His comrade was a bit slower. I killed him with a thrust through the heart. The other's yells echoed through the jungle until the moment I separated his head from his shoulders.

I left their bodies on the path and returned to the tree. They were not discovered until the afternoon, and though they did not search that day, the fires burned extra brightly in their settlement, as though that would keep me out. I thought briefly of once again creeping inside, but there was no need. I was pulling them out, thinning their numbers.

They next day they hunted me. Moving in their pairs, they did not stray far from one another, calling back and forth.

I hunted them like animals.

I approached, keeping myself at the edge of their patrol. The first pair were surprised when I burst from the undergrowth. They didn't even get a chance to scream.

I melted back into the jungle and soon the others noticed that my victims had not returned their calls. They found their comrades, each killed with a single stroke. I watched from the tree as the hobgoblins converged below, looking out into the jungle with fearful, superstitious eyes.

Fate reached to them, the threads of where their lives met the blade of my spear illuminated the path. I saw myself leaping from the tree upon each of them. In each, I was able to carve my way through most, but inevitably, one would land an incapacitating blow. I waited until they broke up into their groups. Now they did not lose sight with one another. Their calls were more frequent, voices tinged with panic.

I bided my time, picking once again the group that strayed farthest. They too died. And the ones after them. And the ones after.

By then, the hobgoblins were on the shaky edge. They set out for their settlement, ready to call their pursuit of me a failure. I chased them down. The first died with his cry still unvoiced. The others fought, all save one, who sprinted for the settlement. By the time the others were dead, he was too far away to catch.

I returned to the tree and watched the fires burn high that night. The following day, the settlement was closed up tight. They released not a single patrol, not even when I went to the ridge on the far side of the river and called to them.

The place was an inferno the following night, desperation in the jungle night. I stood atop the branch, clutching Fate. This would have to be the night. It was time to finish. There were still so many of them within the settlement. I was not confident, but I would not leave this blight upon the flesh of the jungle.

I climbed down, ready to make my way into their lair. I would find the right threads. I would trust in Fate.

A breeze caressed my back. Thorns touched my shoulders. I turned. The dryad stood before me, and behind her, a portal into her tree, a long, leaf-shaped slit, flared. I saw recognition in her green eyes, a desire like Winter for Spring. Her hand closed over mine and she pulled me back to the tree. I went with her eagerly, stepping inside the trunk. The tree closed behind me, trapping me in a chamber permeated with the wonderful green smell. The lights rained from the ceiling, casting the silver light of a hungry moon. My flesh was alive with need. I wanted nothing more than another kiss from the alluring creature.

I set Ur-Anu down, stepping to the dryad, taking her in my arms. She was shorter than me, but I felt the power in her. She was strong, even in her diminished state. My lips found hers, and she kissed me hungrily, her tongue invading my mouth. Her taste was the smell of a torn leaf. Her talons touched my cheek, and though she kissed, it was clear she was drinking from me, swallowing my saliva greedily.

I knew what she would need, but I wanted her. I needed to taste the sex of a dryad. I kissed my way down her body. Her skin was smooth and cool, the warmth deeper within her body. I fell to my knees before her. Her sex was like a human woman's, though her folds were of soft wood, her fleece mossy and green. I pressed my lips against her lips, sucking her scent deep into my nose. The aroma was that of a field in Spring, a heavy bloom in the air, the soil fertile with unshed life. She was nature itself, and I was inflamed. I was at once mighty, but I also served her. Nature wanted me to take her, but one could never truly take all of the wild.

Her body rose from the ground and after a moment of confusion, I saw vines snaking in from all directions had lifted her off her feet. She spread her thick thighs, leaning back and watching me, her eyes fiery with curiosity. There could be no misunderstanding what she desired.

I explored her thoroughly, dipping my tongue into her folds, finding a soft nubbin at the apex of her. The more I teased, the more of her nectar began to flow. And it was truly nectar. A it like tree sap, but thin. The sweetness filled my limbs with the storm. I moved to her little pearl, sliding my fingers into her. Through her, I could love the jungle that had sustained me these many weeks.

She never cried out. The sounds she made was the wind sighing through trees. A beautiful music that tickled the hair on the back of my neck and pulled gooseflesh up my spine. As I kept up my attentions, and her hips rocked against me, the sounds went from a summer day to a winter storm. Her legs were up, the vines holding them up and apart. Her language of desire was at once new and familiar.

She shuddered, a subtle kind of bliss. Her hands found my cheeks, gently coaxing me to my feet. I pulled the loincloth from my body, and she was already guiding my staff to her. She could not bear to not have me inside her for a moment longer. Her eyes held me, going smoky as I entered her. At first, only a bit of me, a lick of lovely sensation as a prelude of what was to come.

She moved against me, taking me deeper inside her, her sex pulling at mine. She was softer and warmer than her mouth had been. She took me eagerly, the sound of wind lashing the trees was joined by the pleasant creak of wood as we rocked against one another.

She stared into my eyes as I thrust to the hilt within her. She pulled me forward, her lips parting. She nodded to me, opening her mouth wide, and another nod. I remembered what she had done before and I leaned down to kiss her. She met my lips, but then leaned away from the contact. I realized what she wanted. I gathered the saliva in my mouth and let it drip sluggishly into her mouth.

She brightened, the color of her skin glowing like polished wood as she drank my spit. Leaves bloomed from her hair. The vines began to wrap around me. I held her hips, matching the rhythm she set.

The bliss hit me suddenly, and she broke into a happy smile as I spasmed, filling her with my seed. Her skin shone, flowers blooming over her hair. I steadied myself, and she stilled. She ducked her head, her eyes meeting mine, and she nodded to me and began to move again, more insistently this time. Her legs wrapped around me, keeping me trapped inside her. I stroked her hair, unable to believe that I was taking so enchanting a creature. I nodded to her, granting my permission to keep going.

Every part of me was on fire. My whole body was a shiver. Her stroke slowed, writhing down me, her sex holding mine. I bit my lip as another wave of bliss crashed through me. She was filled with my seed anew. As her sex drank it in, it vanished, leaving behind only her sweet-smelling nectar.

I found myself overcome, pulling out of her and once again dropping to my knees. I put my face to her orchid, drinking in the delicious juice, attacking her sensitive spots to get more. Only when that honey ran down my chin and into my beard did I once again stand, taking her again with a thrust, and crushing my lips to hers.

My thrusts were powerful now, each one full, slamming home deep inside her. The wind lashed the leaves about us, the storm brewing in the woods as the trees creaked and the leaves whispered.

The vines pulled her legs up until they were resting on my chest, her knees over my shoulders. I held her, pounding deeper and deeper into her. The bliss was on me constantly now. I was spilling out of myself, filling her again and again. The longer we coupled, the more she rejuvenated, and the more flooded from me.

I could have kept at her forever. I would no longer eat, or drink, or sleep. I would be this for her as long as I could manage, and I would be happy. A blade found its way into my chest, and though the pain was great, I kept filling her. Her face, happy and washed with pleasure, darkened as she looked into my eyes.

Forcefully, the vines pulled me from her. My staff came free, dripping with pearly fluid. I breathed, and only then realized then that my heart was hammering without rhythm. I was at once exhausted and energized.

The vines set her on her feet. She bent over, sucking me into her mouth, cleaning the last remnants of my juices from me. I watched her wanting to suck more, but she forced herself off, standing back.

"We can," I gasped. "We can continue."

We could not. I knew for certain that if we continued our loveplay it would be the end of me. Yet I did not mind in that moment. I had forgotten everything except for her.

The vines picked her up, drawing her body back into the far end of the chamber. Behind me, the portal opened, out into the night. Her eyes were alight, tinged with a deep melancholy. I donned my loincloth and picked up Ur-Anu. She did not want a victim that night. She wanted a champion. I stepped out of the grove, and as I moved, vines sprouted from the earth in my footprints. I slipped into the woods at the side of the path and moved. There was not a path here, but I found I could travel through the undergrowth was easily as if it had been a paved road. I moved swiftly and silently, my mind on the gap in the wall.

When I saw the gate, everything changed. The jungle itself swirled forth. The two guards at the gate brandished their axes, ready to hew vine and branch, but fear paralyzed them. I sprang from the trees dispatching both with swift, precise strikes. The jungle breathed, the sound of wind in leaves and creaking wood identical to the dryad's bliss. Her taste lingered on my tongue.

The hobgoblin in the tower raised the alarm. The jungle gripped the gate, shattering the dead wood with living. Trees, vines, and brambles reached hungrily for the settlement. Cries of terror rose from the settlement. I rushed through the shattered gates, killing the hobgoblins who were waiting for me.

I ran to the barracks. A hobgoblin appeared in the doorway and I think she was as surprised as me. She was dead before she fell. I burst into the room, and Fate bade me parry. I spun it up, catching the swung axe just below the blade. The other hobgoblin reached back for another hit, and I broke his nose with the butt of the spear, then pierced his heart.

The enslaved people screamed, backing away from me, fear on their faces. I could not blame them. I must have looked a fright, a barbarian from far away wielding a magic spear. I brought the blade down on the chain that linked them. The metal gave without effort.

One of the enslaved people, a young woman, looked at me, her face locked halfway between fear and hope. I put the blade of Ur-Anu next to the shackle over her ankle. She nodded to me and I broke it without touching her skin.

She spoke to her companions in quick sentences, her voice firm despite the obvious fear. I broke the shackles on more of them. One screamed, and I turned to find hobgoblins in the doorway. I killed the first one with a quick thrust. The other two boiled into the room. One bellowed when he saw the freed slaves. They screamed, retreating into the corner. I slew the two hobgoblins, and saw that we were out of time.

"Come!" I called, waving to them. With luck, they could understand so universal a gesture. I jumped to the bottom of the steps leading to the doorway. About half of the hobgoblins were hacking at the roots and vines now growing over the walls. The other half were advancing onto the barracks with death in their eyes.

Threads connected me to them. I saw myself killed a dozen or more times, always thanks to one of the hobgoblins getting behind me. I gave them ground. At that moment, the freed slaves appeared at the door. One of the hobgoblins raised the alarm. I saw but a single thread that did not end in my end. I struck first one and then the other, raising a bloodcurdling cry.

A young man in the door saw my savagery and leapt. He was hewed from the air. A deafening crack tore the night in half. The walls fell. I waded into the hobgoblins, slaughtering with abandon. Some of the newly-freed slaves screamed, but the young woman remained calm, shepherding them away. I pointed to the gap in the wall, and she made for it. After a moment, they were gone out into the jungle.

I lost count of the hobgoblins I slew. It was filthy, crimson work. I stood among the broken bodies, my simmering blood slowing. The jungle had stopped its attack, the growth only penetrating the wall. The night was still.

I broke the locks of the stables, and though the horses snorted and pawed the ground, soon they bolted. I put the mill and the warehouse to the torch. This time, as I made my way through the jungle, my steps were no longer easy. Roots and undergrowth were treacherous, grasping at my ankles. I returned to the pathway, and walked to the grove, the fury of battle bleeding from me as the fire rose behind. Though I had been with her earlier, I was already thinking of another bout of loveplay. Something, perhaps, to celebrate victory.

I arrived at the grove, and though I could see only by the moon, I knew instantly something was wrong. The scent was that of death. The trees were bare of leaves, the branches brittle. I went to the tree in the center, my steps certain.

I found the dryad's tree open, the portal to the inner chamber wide. The tree itself was dead, the entire grove finally joining the jungle around it, no longer standing against the blight. I went inside. The bright green smell was gone. Now it was the scent of autumn, of dead leaves and dry wood. Holes in the trunk allowed in moonlight. That is the only explanation for how I could see. Perhaps there was some lingering magic that gave me sight.

In the center of the chamber was a raised section of wood, like a table. It was where the dryad had been suspended by her vines during our love. In the center sat a ball the size of an eye. I picked it off the table. It was hard, irregular in shape, a small point on one end. A seed. I turned it over in my hand.

It was slightly warm to the touch, and smelled sweetly of the dryad. I kissed it gently, then clutched it to my heart. With reverence, I secreted it in one of the folds of my loincloth. It was a precious gift, her final one. A thanks, perhaps.

I slept in that chamber, and in the morning, I went out to the lake. The water was still black, the sky over the settlement greasy. With one final look at the dryad's home, I continued on my journey.