Ark could picture it then. A bleak place of moorland and heather, where only storms soared over the empty inland vastness. And out of that nothing, that stillness, the action of rain and sun on those first seeds had created Arborium…. “But the earth below us is dirty; that’s why the trees grew so high! I don’t believe you.”

“The facts are not bothered by what you think.” Corwenna allowed herself a small smile. “Only the earth beyond these shores was polluted. It’s just that the story has twisted over time. And before you ask where the Dendrans came from, think.”

“They could have come from Maw for all I know!”

“Not so stupid, are you? Yes, Ark, they were refugees. A boatload of them, braving strong winds and heaving oceans that tossed and swayed like treetops in a storm, praying to escape the march of the new world and find some peace, a land they could call their own — a land where trees still thrived.”

Ark tried to imagine the scene. He’d never even come close to the sea.

“Such a rickety old boat, filled with desperate men, women, and children. Oh, to come across this green-gladed paradise — there was no poisonous gas, not yet — and its creator, who welcomed them with open arms.” Corwenna smiled at the thought of it.

“And that’s how we all came here?”

“It’s a story for another time. But you don’t think all those woodways were built by magic, do you? The boat carried not just dreams, but carpenters, engineers, bakers, and builders. They brought whole cities in their heads, but not the dark machines that filled the sky with clouds of filthy smoke. They only needed guidance to make sure the mistakes of Maw were not repeated.”

Corwenna stood up. “It is late and you are in need of rest. I must finish.” She sighed to herself. “You do know the woman’s name, of course?”

Ark could see a word forming in his mind but would not believe it. He remembered the carving scratched into the wood outside Corwenna’s home.

“Yes, Ark … Diana.”

“Then, there is no … Goddess?” The words stumbled out as Ark’s tongue recoiled from the idea that tripped off it.

“What is a goddess? What does that mean? You can understand the minds of animals, you can sense the trees, but does that mean we should worship you, young Ark?”

“No … I … that’s not fair!” His mind raced. Was every prayer a waste of both breath and thought?