Idalia is the first to leave the path and approach one of the trees. Tentatively, she rests her hand against its bark. At her touch, it ripples like water, and the melody changes. No longer an untamed clash, it now exudes a sweet song, like one plucked from a harp. Have the gods ordained that the forest play angelic music for her? She removes her hand and shoots Nuri a worried look as the harp-like notes continue to dance around.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would do that!” she says.

Nuri only laughs. “Why do you apologize? You have a lovely song!”

Idalia holds her hand to her chest. “I have a lovely song?”

“Yes, that’s what’s playing now—the song within you. No one knows a spirit like the trees, especially trees within the Florian Wood. They’re far older than all of us combined and have seen, heard, tasted, and endured more than we can imagine. When a being touches them, they play that soul’s melody.”

“Yours is a tender spirit, but do you hear that?” Nuri continues. She leans in. “Just there! It changes into a different key! It’s subtle, but it moves the entire song in a different direction.”

“What does that mean?”

Nuri shrugs. “How should I know? It’s not my song.”

Idalia purses her mouth and narrows her eyes, one brow tilting down.

Lorna elbows my rib. “Stare harder, why don’t you,” she hisses.

I open my mouth to reply, but the music changes again. This time, drums beat in a wild tantrum. Torrent has one huge hand pressed against another tree’s bark. His head nods to the beat, and he roars his delight.

“Yes! Do you hear this? It’s the sound of a warrior’s heart!”

I admit the trees have assessed him correctly. He flashes a grin to Nuri, and the drumming quickens.

She smiles coyly, then skips over to him with flamboyant dance moves.

“Now, watch this,” she says, placing her hand next to Torrent’s. Tambourines and clanking bells join his drums and create a fantastic tune.

People dressed in bright, multi-colored fabrics spill out of the buildings and join us. Perhaps they received word that we aren’t a threat and are here to greet us properly. A tall woman of at least six feet reaches down and grabs Idalia’s hands then swings her to the square, whose stones are painted with the image of a large tree. Its branches expand to the edges of the floor, and the green leaves sweep into the grass seamlessly.

Idalia kicks off her shoes and dances with the tall woman, smiling and clapping to Torrent and Nuri’s song. Her laugh spills from her like liquid. If only I had a cup, I’d gladly scoop it up and merrily drink it.