“You do not need an answer now, old friend,” the Hudson Witch said. “There is still one more.”
The Mother Tree nodded and beckoned with her hands. I began limping towards her, Wol and Hwari in tow. But unlike how the Mother Tree had done for Mina and Victor, she wasn’t looking at me. As a result, I felt none of the oppressiveness that had been placed on Mina and Victor.
Dammit. I needed her to pay attention.
I cleared my throat. “This war that Valentine spoke of, could I know more about it?”
That grabbed the Mother Tree’s attention. “The forest is always in balance. But it is not a balance of peace, but a balance of struggle. With each struggling to survive, we achieve a harmony in this place. We do not seek to dry the roots and burn the seeds of others, but leave our own behind.”
“But?” I urged.
“If one of my children truly attempted to eliminate the other… the other side would be forced to retaliate in kind. One side moves, the other moves in conjunction. They would find more ingenious ways to survive. To pass on their offspring, perhaps by harming others.”
The Hudson Witch took her hand off the Mother Tree. “In terms you would understand, lad, in a few years, nothing might have changed. But in a few centuries, the forest would be unrecognizable. Perhaps it would become a field bereft of nothing but mushrooms. Perhaps the trees will have grown so large that they strangle the life out of everything else. Perhaps a different kind of dominant species will rise. The balance would be broken.”
“I know this. My children know this,” the Mother Tree said, troubled. “They know this.”
I wasn’t sure whether she was trying to convince herself or me. At least, I managed to grab her attention.
Now, I needed to keep it on me. “Well, who says that it needs to be one forest?”
Her attention slid over to me, with the weightiness of mountain boulders. Slowly, but undoubtebly.
“I’m an abjurer. I can seal the mushkin here so that no one else can come in or leave. They’d be safe and wouldn’t have to worry about being accepted by the others or causing this war,” I said. “This would be their home, much like it is now. I’ve heard that a normal tree can sustain fungi for years. A body of your size could sustain them for decades.”
“Can this be done?” the Mother Tree asked in the Hudson Witch’s direction.
The Hudson Witch nodded. “Yes.”
“I wish to hear your reasoning,” she said.
“Because no matter what we do, the mushkin won’t ever be accepted,” I said. “They’ll forever be labeled as the ones who sped up the death of the former Mother Tree. Once a label like that is placed on you, you’re an outsider. Period. And you want us, who are even more of an outsider than the mushkin, to convince the forest to accept them? Impossible.”
I shook my head. “They won’t be accepted. They’ll be hounded. And as you said, it will most likely lead to more conflict.” I frowned. “At best, they’ll be tolerated. But they’ll always know they don’t belong. And that leads to a different type of resentment. They’ll never be able to call this place home.”
“So you offer to create a new home for them?”
I nodded.
“You speak as if you know the pain of being branded as an outsider?”
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“All my life,” I said, a little proud. “And it’s made me stronger. I think. But when I was a kid, I didn’t care about getting along with the people who mistreated me. I just wanted to be left alone.”
“And you would have been happy?”
“Not sure,” I said honestly. “But I like to think I would have been.”
The Mother Tree dropped the scowl, and it transformed her face back into the big friendly giant that I first saw. “Thank you for telling the truth. It would have been easy to lie.”
I grunted. “Not really. But that’s my offer. Wards to seal this place. I would need help though.”
“If your solution is chosen, I will lend aid,” the Hudson Witch said.
Seeing as I didn’t have anything else left to say, I returned to my spot.
The Mother Tree settled back down to her spot by the fallen tree. She folded her knees, avoiding her wounded stomach, and fell into thought. The mushkin continued to hiss at Victor, but the momentum was gone. A few of them ventured out of the shade and started to play again.
I looked east. The sun was about to come up soon.
About a minute passed before the Mother Tree finally spoke. “I have reached my decision.”
My breath got stuck halfway between my tongue and esophagus as the Mother Tree got ready to announce who had won the trial.
“I choose yours, Victor Valentine,” she said.
At those words, all the nerves I’d been feeling left in a sudden whoosh. The tension between my shoulders melted into mushy goo that clung to my feet, heavy and sticky, threatening to drag me down to the snowed ground. I felt hot at my neck between my ears from disappointment, embarrassment, and shame.
I tried not to look at Wol or Hwari. It felt like I’d let them down.
The Mother Tree’s eyes flicked down at the young evocator, then sharpened. “Your solution addresses my pain, as well as the potential struggle between my children. Is it true that you can help us pass on without suffering?”
“It’ll be like falling asleep,” Victor said.
The Mother Tree closed her eyes. “Very well, young one. Make the preparations. I will ready myself.”
Victor nodded and stepped to the side, whispering in low tones to his familiar. He cast a glance at us. I’d expected something like smugness. But it was a passing glance, more curious than mocking.
I tried not to meet his eyes.
“The trial isn’t over yet,” Mina said suddenly. “Regardless of whose solution is chosen, two people will pass.”
“You are correct, lass,” the Hudson Witch said. “Let the old one explain.”
“Mina Baek, your solution was sound in theory. I might have taken it, except for one shortcoming,” the Mother Tree said. She gestured down at the mushroom children. “You would freeze my children and leave their fates in your hands.”
Mina frowned.
“You are an outsider. A traveler. A visitor. A drifter in our lands. Yet, you put more weight in your words than my own. I am the Mother Tree of this forest. Do you truly believe that your words will succeed when mine fell on deaf ears? To my own children?”
Mina breathed in through her nose, closed her eyes, and noticeably calmed herself before answering. “That is why I offered to freeze your children. Until I succeeded, they would be set aside. Sealed in ice.”
“For how long, young one?”
“For as long as it took me to convince the rest of the forest,” Mina said, but she sounded unsure.
“No. I have known your kind. We dryads measure our lifespans in centuries. If you did not succeed, would you pass this task down to your heirs? To their children? To your great-great-great grandchildren? I have seen the weight of a human’s words, and it is lighter than my leaves that fall when the cold winds come.”
“You don’t know that,” she said, trembling.
“Perhaps not. But I am the judge of this particular trial. And you have placed too much value on your own power, too little in mine, and none at all on the time that lies between your kind and mine,” the Mother Tree spoke. Her tone grew a fraction gentler. “It was short-sighted. But I also know that it was your kindness that held you back. You did not even think of hurting my children, did you?”
Mina didn’t reply.
“But sometimes, we are forced to make hard choices. That is nature, child,” the Mother Tree said, then turned to me. “Do you understand why you were not chosen?”
I realized that I was breathing hard and was gripping my crutch tight enough that it hurt. I wanted to throw it. Break something. Instead, I closed my eyes and forced myself to calm down. “I do.”
“Tell me,”she said softly.
“Separating them wouldn’t change anything. It would only let hatred simmer beneath the surface,” I said. I could imagine it as I said it. The mushkin, growing in size and number, pressing their ugly faces against the invisible walls of the wards, and wanting to get out. “The dryads would always be fearful of the mushkin, not knowing when my wards would come down. As you said to Mina, there is no way to know when I will die, and how long my wards will last. Once they come down, it would be worse. The mushkin will have had time to prepare. The same for the dryads in the forest. It would be a war as soon as the wall came down.”
I continued. “A wall isn’t a solution. It’s another thing to pay attention to. The mushkin, the dryads; it’s the same as the Great Wall of China. It’s built to keep things out. It would be an arms race between the two,” I said, eyes still on the snow. “Hell, it’d be a cold war until the wards came down. Neither side would truly live. They’d just prepare to fight.”
“A student of history,” the Hudson Witch commented.
The Mother Tree leaned down to take a closer look at me. “Then why did you suggest such a thing?”
“Because I know what nature is like. Birds kill the runt of the litter, er, flock, all the time. Ducks, pelicans, all of them,” I said. “And… I don’t know. I had a feeling that if you had the chance, you’d choose to get rid of the weak links. The mushkin, which is the source of this problem.”
“So why?” she pressed.
I finally looked up. “Because I know what it feels like to be hated, to be treated like a pest, to feel like I don’t belong, all because no one wants me here. Doesn’t mean I don’t have a right to exist.”
The giant dryad did not move or respond. She regarded me for several moments.
“You knew it would come to this?”
“I knew that chances were good this wasn’t what you’d choose, but hoped that you’d choose different,” I spat.
The last few words came out a little too vehemently, and I chanced a quick look at the Mother Tree to see if I’d offended her.
“You are young, and you are a practitioner,” she said. “You knew what the answer was, yet you chose a path that you’d hoped I’d take. Is that it, young one?”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter now, does it?”
“Petulant,” she said, sitting up again. “But that is how your kind often is. I’ve made my decision. Jain Shin Hallow, your solution is worthy of a Shaman’s name. I wish you luck in the last trial ahead of you.”