She opens her eyes, and pain tinges her voice rough as she commands once again, “Don’t fail me. Please.” With that, she is gone, melting back into her tree as though she never was.

For the space of two heartbeats, Croi doesn’t move. Her eyes are stuck to the surface of the tree trunk. Is Uaine really gone? Croi doesn’t know how to get to Talamh Caisleán. Or where in Talamh the Caisleán is. She doesn’t even know how to get to the Otherworld. What does it mean to follow the magick?

After a while, Croi realizes that no matter how long she stares at the tree, Uaine will not return. She picks up her pack, slings it over one shoulder, and exhales. The clearing is suddenly gloomy, each moment sinister in its stillness.

She knows better than to stay here, but her body has learned fear too well. What if she takes one step and the summoning spell returns, pulling at her again? Five minutes pass as Croi stands, hesitating. Then Uaine’s tree groans, the sound a clear expression of pain. Startled, Croi takes an instinctive step away.

The first step didn’t hurt, so she takes another one. The summoning spell doesn’t spring back to renew its command on her limbs. She’s free to move.

Croi quickly leaves the dryad’s clearing and walks swiftly, putting distance between herself and Uaine. Though the Glamour has broken further, the forest remains unkind to her. Any insect that can bite her, does. Thorns seek her out just to get their bloody due, and branches belligerently present themselves as obstacles. Even the tree roots don’t leave her alone. She walks, tripping and falling, until the light in the forest dims and hunger hollows her.

Sighing wearily, she looks around. She’s far enough from the dryad, so she might as well stop for the night. A tree with overhanging branches catches her attention. Croi picks up a stick and stalks under it, making enough noise that any critters and slithery beasts know to leave. Setting her pack gently down by a fallen log, she brushes the ground beside it and settles there. She leans against the log and draws her legs up to her chest. Her body aches as if one of the carts in the human city rolled over it. Night will blanket the forest soon, but darkness has no meaning to her changed eyes. She can see as clearly as though it were day.

The forest is, contradictorily, both full of sounds and silent. If she were to disappear at this moment, would anyone know that she’s missing? Would anyone care? Did the stone maid wonder why Croi didn’t come back? Does she think she has been abandoned?

Croi opens her pack and gently takes out the scarf that’s wrapped around Uaine’s SoulSeed. She unwraps it. The SoulSeed pulses softly, casting golden-green light and illuminating the surroundings. It feels far heavier than it should. She rewraps it and places it carefully back into the pack. The dryad will certainly know if she goes missing. She will care.