I closed my eyes, feeling outward. Every root, every branch, every leaf for… oh. Oh wow.
“She totally has that kind of range,” Peeble said gleefully. “This is about to get interesting.”
“I can feel trees miles away,” I said, opening my eyes. “There’s an oak about thirty feet behind you that really doesn’t like your captain. Something about you pissing on its roots last night?”
“GERALD!” Peeble exclaimed. “She’s talking about Gerald! I love Gerald!”
“You can hear him, too?” I whispered.
“Everyone can hear Gerald. He’s very loud. Mostly complains about people with no respect for nature.”
The captain went pale. Several soldiers looked up nervously.
“That’s impossible,” he said, but his voice wavered.
“The oak’s name is Gerald,” I continued, because apparently I could know that now. “He’s been here for three hundred years, and he’s very protective of his forest. Want to know what he’s thinking about doing to you?”
A branch cracked ominously overhead. Not because I’d done anything—Gerald was just dramatic.
“SEE?” Peeble shouted at the soldiers. “GERALD DOESN’T LIKE YOU! NONE OF THE TREES LIKE YOU! YOU SHOULD LEAVE!”
“Retreat,” the captain ordered suddenly. “Fall back to the secondary position.”
“Sir?” one of the soldiers questioned.
“I said retreat!”
They pulled back, dragging their spore-affected and vine-tangled comrades. Within minutes, they’d vanished into the forest, leaving us standing in a clearing covered in flowers, vines, and Kaelren’s decay circles.
“WE WON!” Peeble did a victory dance on my shoulder. “We actually won! No one died! Well, probably no one died. Some of them looked pretty bad. But mostly no one died!”
“Did you really talk to a tree?” Bryx asked, Kevin buzzing excitedly around his head.
“I… maybe? I definitely felt something that thought of itself as Gerald.”
“You definitely talked to Gerald,” Peeble confirmed. “He’s been talking to you for days, you’re only just now listening properly.”
“Trees having names isn’t the problem,” Kaelren said, his voice tight with something that might have been concern. “The problem is you shouldn’t be able to communicate with them this clearly yet. Most Root-touched take years to develop that level of connection.”
“Well, Gerald wasn’t exactly subtle about introducing himself. He also wasn’t subtle about his opinions on you—something about being ‘an angry little death-walker who needs more sunlight.’”
Peeble buzzed with laughter. “Gerald’s not wrong! You are very angry! And very death-oriented! More sunlight would probably help!”
Sarnyx barked out a laugh. “I like this tree.”
“Everyone likes Gerald,” Peeble said. “Except people who piss on his roots. He has strong opinions about that.”
“We need to move,” Kaelren said, trying to ignore the beetle. “They’ll regroup and come back with reinforcements.”
“Gerald says there’s a grove about two miles north where the Crown never goes. Something about the mushrooms there giving them ‘uncomfortable visions of their life choices.’”
“Those mushrooms are great,” Peeble added. “Very therapeutic. Mademe reconsider my life choices for three days straight.”
Everyone stared at me. And Peeble.
“What? I’m just repeating what the tree said. Says? Is saying? Tree communication doesn’t really follow normal temporal rules.”
“You’re talking to trees now,” Eltrien said slowly. “That’s… new.”
