I moved to my cabinet and retrieved Mother's carving from the bottom drawer. I quickly blew off the dust and held its oaken form to my chest.

I needed to have faith. Hope with every root of my forest that she'll hear my call. I must worship like no being had ever worshipped before.

I frantically searched my home for my leather satchel and eventually found it stuffed in a far corner of my room. It was even dustier than the carving. Inside are several green crystals, a long knife and small trinkets.

I find myself lost in memories for a few seconds, reminiscing over the past: when Elvs lived inside my forest; when Faeries flourished, and Pixies danced; when human festivals celebrated me and the fortune I brought.

It hurt. It hurt more than the hottest fire could.

Mother, please answer my calls.

Behind me, I could hear movement. I made a quicker turn than I ever had before, and I was greeted by an odd sight. The carving had become animated; it now danced like a Pixi, tripped like a drunk, and grinned deviously like a Faerie. Recently, I haven't been able to animate anything. I examined the crystals. They were all there.

For the spell to even start, I had to break one. Yet, they were in pristine condition. Mother had heard my prayer before I even had a chance to open a connection. She had come to me.

With tears of joy, I dove at the carving, and it desperately tried to escape me. I held it close -- closer than I had ever held anything. I released it after a few seconds of suffocating hugging and watched it crash to the floor. It stiffly stumbled onto its feet and pointed at the ground. I sat like a child and watched it.

Suddenly, it spoke.

"You have to warn me before you do that, Aceretethira."

For centuries, her honeyed voice had been lost to me. I felt comfort and calm wash over me like a soft breeze. My sadness was dispelled from my body with just one sentence. I could feel hope blazing inside of me.

"So, what do you need, my child?"

"Mother... I'm being killed. The humans have forsaken their ancient promise to preserve and honour me. They've ruined and plundered my forests, and I have virtually nothing left. I let them trample over me and now I'm too weak to protect myself." I tried to keep my anger at bay with every fibre of my being and was barely successful.

"You are right to be angry, my dear," the carving said, ruffling my hair and patting my antlers after it fluttered to my face. "I have felt it too. In this struggle, you are not alone. Out of my other children, you are suffering the most. Thank you for reaching out, Acere. May you give me the entire story?"

"Of course!"

I recounted as much as I remembered on the spot, trying to go into detail. I spanned the incident with Elias Gardwood to the present. By the end of it, the small wooden carving had a contemptful expression on its face.

"So, because you denied the advancements of Elias, they've been purposefully more strict to actively trying to weaken you as much as possible. From spite to greed. That is pathetic, even for humans."

I nod. "I believe that was the catalyst. I didn't know he'd take it to heart so much. All I said was no and that we were better off friends. Then when his father died, he manipulated me into giving up some land. He must've passed the behaviour down to his son."

"Tell me, my child, how many trees can you control?" Mother asks.

"None."

"Can you move your true body?"

"Not for the last century."

"Not even the slightest?"

"No, I'm using it as a treehouse. I'm relegated to using an avatar."

"What about blessings, my child?" I had scarcely heard panic like that. "Can you perform a blessing of youth?"

"I don't think I can. Maybe if I strained myself."

"Can you spawn monsters?"

"I had assured the first Gardwood and the Elvs that I would never do such a thing. Even if that weren't the case, I'm not strong enough to design anything that might endanger a group of knights. A small troop of Goblins at most."

"Can you still use magic?"

"The most I can do is give a plant some nutrients. If I strain myself, I might be able to make a grape-sized Dryad Fruit."

With each answer, the carving's frown deepened. Mother was furious, perhaps even more than I was. She paused for a moment, tapping her head and murmuring to herself. Then there was a period of silence.

"Aceretethira, you should be dead."

The words struck me like an axe to the trunk. I opened my lips to ask for an explanation, but nothing coherent came out. "What?" was all I managed to bumble out.

"Yes, you have lost over half of your territory over the last two centuries. At the very least, you should be in total hibernation. Yet, you still have a strong grasp over your consciousness. You are lucky, my child," Mother explained. "Because your body is too fragile to handle a large portion of my mana, I will provide you with a small boon. It should help you regain some of your magical abilities, but be careful not to expend it quickly."

Euphoria swept over me as I felt an incredible amount of mana surging into my body. My treehouse shook as my true body shuddered beneath the earth.

"You will not attempt to move your body until I tell you to. I can sense it is in an exceptionally delicate state. There is a staggering amount of crystalised mana beneath your territory. Perhaps that is what the humans want and what is keeping you alive. For now, you must rest. Defend your territory with demonstrations of strength and show the humans they are no longer welcome in the forest."

"Yes, Mother!"

"My child, it is said the only difference between a dungeon and a Dryad's forest is compassion. Remind them what happens when nature is not compassionate. We are not to be trifled with, my dear. I will return to you in a few days. Another God owes me a favour, and I do not mind expending it on you."

I nodded my head enthusiastically and bowed to the little wooden carving. It returned the bow before falling to the ground, lifeless. I brought it to my chest and gave it another tight hug.

Thank you, mom. I've been saved.

The forest seems to have sensed my increase in energy as I feel the rustle of the trees at the border of the clearing and in my orchard. They must've felt the presence of the Great Mother too.

'Remind them what happens when nature is not compassionate.'

Those remarks have stayed with me. I hadn't had to commit an act of violence in a long time: I hadn't strangled someone with roots, sucked a creature dry of nutrients, or even hit another person. I had done nothing. For a long time, I had allowed myself to be trampled into peat. I had refrained from retaliating and believed that things would get better soon. My confrontation with the latest Gardwood had been the closest I had come for some time.

I teleported outside and onto the grass. I pressed the tips of my fingers into the dirt. I tuned into the chatter of the blades of grass. The grass was always incredibly talkative. They spread messages and rumours far and wide across the continent. I could ask them to talk to another Dryad, and they would find one for me.

The tips of my fingers morphed into roots, and I connected with the vast network of plants. My sensory range exploded in size, encompassing the entire forest in seconds. I could feel every footstep, hear every noise and smell every scent.

It was all so empty, barren, lifeless.

I could count the number of animals on my hands.

I then felt something. A wagon. A carriage. Several carriages. Poachers? Merchants? No, they were poachers. I could smell the blood. Rage began to boil in me. They were here to hunt my Ammatyr: a two-headed beast with three long scorpion-like tails and a brilliant mane. It was the only monster in my territory, and it had come here without my input. I had left the beast to fend for itself as it was strong enough to take down a group of poachers and didn't require much food.

But a poacher group as large as this? The beast stood little chance of winning. I think there were forty- no, fifty present. Pikes, nets, crossbows -- so many weapons. Traps and meat and lures. They had come very well prepared.

A show of force will be in order.