She gets to her feet after a while and looks up at the forest ceiling, trying to tell the time from the visible patches of the sky. A bunch of gringits the size of the wild pears she likes to eat are hanging from an oak tree. When they see her looking, they make rude gestures at her. Croi can’t speak Gringit, but she can click her tongue in a way that infuriates them. So, she does. They chitter excitedly, blending into the leaves with their green skin and gravity-defying green hair. Their sharp, pointy ears spread on either side of their heads like wings. The two antennae on their foreheads are currently quivering with rage. Before they can galvanize into action, Croi flees. As gringits are territorial and don’t ever venture too far from the tree they call their own, she is sure they won’t follow her.

Leaving the gringits behind, she follows the river path, avoiding the thorny attentions of the blackberry bushes growing alongside it. The river sings constantly. Croi wonders if the fish ever get tired of its song. Stepping off the river path, she ventures deeper into the forest, past three giant willow trees, a clearing filled with blue delphiniums and giant white butterflies, and onto a well-worn path lined on either side by wildflowers. The path leads to a clearing surrounded by four trees whose branches Croi has borrowed to form the roof of the dwelling she shares with the Hag. She stuck moss in between the holes in the roof to keep out the rain.

Croi and her guardian used to live in a cave, but then she discovered the human city and houses. She can’t build a house in the Wilde Forest, but this shelter functions similarly to one. The dwelling is just one large room divided into three parts: a space to eat, a space to learn, and a space to sleep. The Hag doesn’t eat, and she doesn’t sleep in the way Croi sleeps. The dwelling is filled with colorful gewgaws Croi picked up from the human city. There’s no furniture, just cushions, scarves, and sparkly things including a handheld mirror. Flowers grow inside, outside, and around the dwelling. Flower sprites love Croi, so they try to be as close to her as possible. Though they don’t speak the same language as her and her attempts at befriending them have been met with bewilderment, having them around makes her feel less lonely.

A cow and two chickens live at the back of the dwelling. Croi gives the cow delicious grass, and the cow provides milk in return. The chickens lay eggs when the mood strikes them, and Croi has to fight for every single one. She moves past the dwelling into an area more densely populated by trees than the rest of the forest.

And there Croi finds her.

The Hag is standing under a tree with large waxy leaves. In the fractured light that filters through the gaps in the forest canopy, she seems as strange to Croi as Croi must have seemed to the humans. She is so still and so silent that at this moment, the Hag is no different from a tree. Tall with smooth, unmarked cheeks made of stone, and eyes, when they are open, the green of a seedling pierced by sunlight. Her limbs are made of a mixture of stone and wood. Her hair is a ropy brown mess on her head. Her stone-and-wood body is swathed in a silver cloak that she never takes off, not even to wash. She smells like the forest, like something green and growing.