“Man, I wish the nursery was open to the public,” Bryce said as he popped the cap back on his highlighter. “I mean, not that I would just gawk at the young Dryads or anything. I don’t mean any disrespect. I just find it all so fascinating. Mom always says I’m too curious for my own good.”
As Willow stood, she studied Bryce a moment before saying, “I trust you would be a very respectful visitor. Would you like to accompany me to my shift today?”
Bryce straightened in his seat. “Wait, for real? I could actually—like, it’s allowed?”
“You would be my guest, so I would take responsibility for you. There are rules you must follow, but I trust you will.”
The human nodded exuberantly. “Of course. Are you sure you don’t mind me tagging along?”
“Not at all.” Turning to Zef, she added, “You’re welcome to come as well.”
“Oi, what about me?” Tad demanded, and Willow’s expression stuttered.
“Oh, uh, unfortunately, I can’t bring more than two visitors, Tad,” Willow said, and the Anura narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“Convenient,” she sniffed as she tucked her baggie of snacks back into her pocket. “Not like I wanna go see prepubescent Dryads anyway.”
“And you’re sure it’s okay that I come?” Bryce asked again, and Willow nodded her agreement. With a beaming smile at Zef, he jumped to his feet, already vibrating with excitement. “This is gonna be awesome!”
Chapter seven
A Circle, Not a Line
Bryce
Bryce was ready togo before either Willow or Zef had finished tidying up the living room. Already in his shoes and coat, he rolled from his heels to his toes and back again as he waited for the other two. He never thought he’d be able to see the Pentagram’s Dryad nursery since it wasn’t open to just anyone. The young Dryads lived there, and they probably didn’t want random strangers gaping at them.
It seemed to take forever, but finally, Zef and Willow were ready to leave. They took a tram to the other side of Envy, then walked two blocks to the Dryad nursery. It was surrounded by a high stone fence, with three entrances, each fitted with metal gates. To open them, Willow dug her rooted “toes” into the ground to release a lever buried several feet under.
“To ensure only Floryan species may enter,” Willow said as she pushed the gate open wide enough to allow them all entrance.
Bryce had so many questions, but they were replaced with reverent silence as he followed Willow down the cobblestone path. There was asense of awe and holiness to this place, like a church or a graveyard. Asking questions and ruining the peaceful stillness felt paramount to sacrilege.
Flowers, somehow still in bloom despite the colder temperatures, swayed in the light breeze. A building made of green stone and covered in ivy rose before them, and Willow instructed them to wait outside as she slipped inside.
“Freshly uprooted Dryads reside here as they adjust to life no longer in the ground,” Zef said as Willow disappeared inside the building. “They receive help with finding employment and long-term accommodations from the Dyrads already living in the Pentagram.”
“So they go from the nursery to the greenhouse?” Bryce asked, trying not to snicker at his own wordplay.
“It is a green house, I suppose,” they said, cocking their head at the building.
Them not getting the joke made it all the funnier to him, but Bryce didn’t say anything, not wanting Zef to think he was laughing at them. “That’s pretty cool that they have so much support.”
“They are very community oriented,” Zef said simply.
Bryce studied the Dryads—all of them women—milling about outside. “There are no men, right? I read that they don’t have men.”
“Correct, male Dryads do not exist. Like Mantodeas, they are a species with only one gender. They simply identify with the divine feminine in ways Mantodeas do not. So they are widely accepted as female.
“In their own language, they have a term for their single gender, as I have in Mantodean,” they explained. “But when conversing in English or Hellian, they almost exclusively use the feminine ‘she’ when referring to themselves.”
“Amazing,” Bryce whispered, tracking a Dryad with white and brown striated skin—bark?—like a birch tree. Willow’s bark was dark brown, like an oak tree. Maybe she was a different genus than the birch Dryad. Or maybe he was thinking about them through his human lens of understanding.
A difference in bark might not mean anything beyond genetic variety or evolution. He’d have to ask his professor about that on Monday.
The birch Dryad passed them, dipping her chin in a silent greeting, and Zef returned it, bowing slightly. Not wanting to be rude, Bryce did the same, and she smiled in amusement but didn’t speak.
She opened the door and stepped aside to let Willow exit, and they exchanged a quick hug and words Bryce couldn’t hear. Then Willow descended the stairs to join them. “My sisters agreed to your tour, but there are a few saplings who may uproot at any time. If that happens, our tour will have to end.”
