With Limha dead, the Fell Wood was just as dark and just as treacherous, guarding its paths just as jealously. But it was not outright hostile. Lena could feel the slow, ponderous process that was the life of a giant organism made of thousands, millions other organisms, from the smallest insect to the largest tree. The living dead were gone, and now the Wood was inhabited only by those creatures that truly had the right to be there. She felt that, knew that.

Now that she knew there were Treants in the wood, too, she realised that the strange marks in the snow, marks which looked as if someone was dragging logs around, were signs of the Treants' passing. Tracking them wouldn't be difficult, but it would take a long time, because it was very hard to tell how old a trail was in this place. It was afternoon, and the sun was somewhere out there. Sometimes, a ray of sunlight managed to penetrate the thick, dark canopy, but most of the time the black crowns hung like a roof over their heads. Crows nested in it, here and there, and they never scattered in panic at their approach. They just fell silent, and waited.

We are no longer intruders, Lena thought, we are guests. Guests that the host is uncertain about, but guests nonetheless. She led the party, slowly and carefully, through the treacherous paths, towards the clearing where she knew Carynara the dryad lived, noticing that everyone seemed to move with care and respect. Even the bard was silent.

The dryad sat on a low branch of her tree, swinging her spindly legs in the air. "Hello," she tittered. "The wood speaks of your passing."

"What does it say?"

"Can't you tell, ranger? Ask your druid, then, I bet he can!" She jumped down and glanced from one to the other. "The wood is uncertain. It has just woken up from a very bad dream, and it doesn't know whether to thank you, or kill you."

"Kill us, miss? But we are the ones who made the bad dream go away!"

"Oh I know, my little friend, I know! But now that the dark monsters are gone, the wood does not know if it can keep on defending itself. And it does not know what else do you plan to make go away."

"That's why I'm here, Carynara. Help me find the Treants."

"And if I do, what shall you do with them? Destroy them?"

"Not if they don't try to destroy me. I only wish to speak to them."

"Do you? Well, I don't believe you. You came here many times, always in the name of the village people. And they kill animals and chop down trees, and get in my way. I like the Wood peaceful and without travellers. I won't help you. Do you own work."

Before Lena could reply, Diriel stepped forward. There was a greenish glow in his eyes, like there was sometimes when he cast his spells. He took the dryad by the arm, and said, strangely gently, "You will help us, Carynara. I know you will. You are a reasonable young dryad, and you want to please a brother of Nature, don't you?"

The light reflected in Carynara's eyes, opened wide and staring at Diriel. "Yes... Yes of course..." she said, slowly. "You can... rest here, because... you must be tired. And tomorrow we will find the Elder Treant so you can speak to him."

"Perfect," the druid replied.

:::::

Lena sat with her back to the large tree, feeling its warmth even through her cloak and leathers. Sally and Nick were both complaining that the dryad didn't let them make a fire, but Lena felt just fine without it.

From her place, she could observe both Rizdaer and Diriel, her gaze wandering from one to the other as usual. Both did what they always did during rest time: Rizdaer sharpened, cleaned and oiled his weapons, while Diriel observed the local wildlife and took extensive notes.

Yet there was a difference. Diriel's usually stoic, uninterested expression was replaced by one of mild but constant irritation, as if his pen didn't write properly. Whereas Rizdaer, instead of sulking at the world at large, seemed at ease and in strangely good spirits. Lena could hear him whistling quietly as he polished the shorter blade.

"Do you like it here, Rizdaer?" she said.

"I do, Mis- uh, yes, I do."

"Why?"

"It's not as bright, not much sky is visible, and not many creatures make noise."

"And are those the only reasons?"

"Why do you ask, Mi- "

"Lena. My name is Lena. You can do it. I believe in you."

Rizdaer took a deep breath. "Why do you ask, Lena?"

"I love it when you say my name, Rizdaer," she said, closing her eyes. When next he spoke, he was suddenly closer.

"And I... I really like when you say my name, Lena."

She looked right into his gemlike, violet eyes. Ever since he stopped using the "disguise" - since there was so little point in doing so out here - his eyes shone like amethysts against his dark skin, and his hair put snow to shame. Lena caught herself staring at his face, at his sharp lips and beautiful cheekbones, before she noticed his strangely concentrated expression. He voiced his own preference to a woman... something that, all his life, could have gotten him killed...

"You do?" she asked.

"Yes. You say it so... softly."

"So why do you like the Fell Wood... Rizdaer?"

He watched her lips for a moment before he spoke. "It's so dark and close it almost feels familiar. But it's still a surface forest, with all the strangeness. Exotic. Majestic, too. I think..."

"Yes?"

"I think this place is the best of both worlds."

He looked in her eyes when he said that, breathlessly, like he was squaring up to do something very dangerous. Not knowing how to react, she put her hand over his and stroked his long fingers in silence.

"Mi- Lena. You know you only need to give the order..." he began.

She stiffed the desperate groan that rose in her chest, and turned her face away. "The dryad is right, we should get some sleep," she mumbled, hurriedly.

:::::

She woke up when Nikosh came back from his watch, and for a while she just lay curled up in her blankets. Turning her head, she saw Rizdaer, as close to the warmth of the dryad tree as possible. He was wrapped in a woollen blanket and in his own woollen cloak, but still he looked cold. Lena got up, quietly, and covered the drow in her winter wolf fur coat, made by Oswald. The crash seemed years ago already.

Turning her head, she saw an unexpected empty space: Diriel was gone for his watch, but so was his bedroll. For a second, she thought he just packed up and left the party, giving up on them, on her, on the whole thing. But then she heard a... a sound. A strangely familiar, rhythmic sound, which she couldn't quite place.
Moving as quietly as she could, she followed the noise. It annoyed her how almost-recognisable it was. She was sure she should be able to tell instantly what made such a sound, but she couldn't.

Crouching by a huge, dark tree, Lena peered into a small clearing. And sure enough, there was Diriel, reclining on his blanket, propped up on one elbow. Some moonlight managed to get into the clearing, and it gleamed off his light hair. It also gleamed off the almost-white head of the dryad.

Diriel's other hand was buried in Carynara's hair, which he held closely, keeping her head in place, moving rhythmically over his hips. Up and down, up and down... Lena stared, stared at Diriel's undone clothing, at the fringe of hair below his navel. Then Carynara shifted position, and Lena saw the dryad's pink-white lips, wrapped tightly around his hard shaft. But he clicked his tongue impatiently, and the girl hastily corrected her grip, shifted back to the way he preferred it. Lena realised that the sound she had heard was the dryad's muffled whimpering, which intensified when Diriel tugged on her hair.

Lena stepped into the clearing, striving to keep her voice as level as possible. "I'm pretty sure that's unethical," she said.

Diriel glanced up, and Carynara tried to, too, but he wouldn't let her. She squealed as he pushed her mouth back onto him, all the while looking up at Lena. In his eyes was something like... a challenge?

"You should be resting, Lena."

"And you should be watchful. That's why it's called a watch."

"There is nothing to watch against here now, Lena. You should know that. And I need to have my physical needs seen to, sometimes, lest it impairs my concentration."

Lena opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She wasn't sure whether to laugh in his face, or slap him. The earnest, almost machine-like way in which the dryad kept on sucking him made her nauseous.
She turned around and simply walked back to her bedroll, feeling his eyes cutting into her retreating back.

:::::

Rizdaer was still asleep, or at least pretended to be. Lena was thankful for that - she really didn't want to tell him why both she and Diriel were away at night, especially since he wouldn't believe the truth anyway. But as she burrowed into her blankets, she saw Sally stir and turn over.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"For the record," the bard said, "when I told him he should get with another woman, I meant me."

"I'm sure you did."

"But at least I can console myself with knowing that I was right."

"Oh? What about?"

"About this being the right treatment. Your face is even more sullen and unpleasant than usual, so I gather you realise now how stupid it is to push away a man like Diriel while being a woman like you."

Lena wrapped the blankets tighter around her. "Sally, do you know anything about Druidic magic?"

"I told you not to call me that. Enough to write about it in songs, if I want."

"So, almost nothing, then." Lena sighed, trying to settle comfortably. "If you had known anything about it, about the spells that summon and control woodland creatures... You'd know that it's not jealousy I'm feeling."

She turned her back to the bard, which meant she was facing Rizdaer now. And of course he was wide awake, his eyes watching her face in the dark.