crime she ever committed was eating an apple from a supermarket without paying for it.' Jake lowered his eyes. She turned on Tye. 'And you ... It's not like Feeders are innocent victims waiting to be freed from their debilitating addiction.' She told him about what she'd tried at Forbes. 'They weren't exactly embracing me as their savior.'
'A lot of them don't know any different,' Tye said. 'Most were born in the human world after the gate closed, the children of the trapped. It's been kill or die their whole lives. But if we could reach them and show them another way ...' Loosening his hand from the branches, he reached out to her. 'You and me. We could save them.'
Jake cut in, 'How many have you 'saved'? Come on, tell us how well your plan works.'
Tye kept his eyes on Lily. 'Yes, it takes time to rehabilitate, but—'
'Feeders are incurable,' Jake said. 'The only good Feeder is a dead Feeder.'
Glaring at Jake, Tye said, 'It's not so great a leap from there to 'the only good magic creature is a dead one.' You want to make us all your enemies.'
'Your council is dissolving the alliance, not us.'
Lily threw her hands into the air. 'That's it. Stay there. I have dryads to find.' She turned her back on them and began to tromp over the underbrush. It spread to let her pass.
She heard Tye swear behind her. 'Lily, wait!' he said.
Lily stopped but she didn't turn. She crossed her arms. Behind her, she heard Jake and Tye speaking softly to each other.
Tye spoke up again. 'We have a compromise. First, we'll help you find the dryads. And
Jake began, 'That's not what—'
'Come on, Lily,' Tye said. 'You need us.'
Lily considered it. 'Not really.' So far, Jake's picking a fight with Tye's father had landed her locked up, and Tye's picking a fight with Jake had slowed her down. 'I'll find the dryads myself, thanks.'
'But they might not cooperate,' Jake said. 'You might want backup.' He struggled against the branches. Twigs snapped, but the tree didn't budge.
'And you might need help reaching the gate afterward,' Tye said. 'The council will be looking for you now. My father can be ... a bit of a grouch.'
Lily looked back at them. Bark had closed around their legs, and branches had curled tightly over their forearms.
'I can sneak by. We snuck out without a problem.'
'Sneaked,' Jake said.
'Sorry?' Lily said.
'Past tense of 'sneak' is 'sneaked,'' Jake said. 'Technically, 'snuck' isn't a real word.'
'Way to focus on the important details,' Lily said.
'He is right,' Tye said. 'It's 'sneaked.''
Both boys nodded—half nods, since branches were entwined in their hair.
'And will you promise to help me find the dryads as quickly as possible?' Lily asked.
Tye's eyes flickered away from her. He focused on something in the distance. 'I can do better than that,' he said. 'I can find them right now.' Following his gaze, Lily turned around.
A slender figure stepped out from between two tree trunks. His skin was wrinkled bark, and his features were carved wood. His hair looked like woven leaves, and soft moss covered his body like clothes. On either side of him, green and brown men and women emerged from the forest.
Lily began to back toward Jake and Tye.
As the tree people drew closer, Lily saw they were changing. The bark on their faces was smoothing into pink and brown skin. Their mossy clothes spread into green dresses and tunics. Leaves and twigs on their heads split into fine strands, forming pale brown and green hair. Soon, they looked human.
'Guess we got their attention,' Tye murmured.
Lily noticed that the hum of the trees had faded to a whir. It felt as if the whole forest had focused its attention on them and was waiting to see what would happen next. She placed her hands on the tree that engulfed Tye and Jake and whispered, 'Release them. Please.'
The tree retreated. Tye and Jake stumbled forward. Immediately, they each moved to either side of her, Tye on the right and Jake on the left. Shoulder to shoulder, the three of them faced the dryads.
'We mean you no harm,' Tye said loudly.
'Sorry for the, um ...' Jake pointed at the broken twigs that littered the forest floor.
As expressionless as the wood around them, the tree people studied them without speaking. The hum of the plants and trees coalesced into a rhythmic thrum. Slowly, it crescendoed. 'Someone's coming,' Lily said. She, Jake, and Tye pressed closer together.
Beyond the semicircle of dryads, a voice rose. 'Who has been changing my trees?'
The dryads widened the circle to allow the speaker inside, and a woman walked out between the trees. Seeing her, Lily felt her jaw drop. 'Mom?'
It wasn't her.
She looked like an older version of Mom: same arched eyebrows, same sky blue eyes, same bone-thin body. She even had the pale green hair that Mom preferred (before her latest spray-paint experiment), but this woman's cheeks were lined with concentric wrinkles like the rings in a tree trunk.
Lily swallowed. Her throat felt as dry as bark. 'Grandmother?'
The woman drifted closer, her bare feet soundless on the forest floor. 'How very unexpected,' she murmured. Inches from Lily, she stopped. She lifted one hand and touched Lily lightly on the cheek. Her fingers were as cool as leaves. 'You have his hair and eyes, but I think my lips and cheeks.' Her voice was detached, as if observing nothing more important than the color of the sky.
Lily stared into her grandmother's eyes. She tried to see Mom in her, but the woman who looked back had none of Mom's mix of silly and sweet. This woman—this dryad—looked as if she'd never laughed in her life. 'Are you ...' Lily's voice cracked.
Beside her, Tye said softly, 'She's the queen of the dryads.'
'Queen?' Jake said. 'Lily, you're royalty?'
Lily continued to stare at the dryad queen, trying to wrap her mind around the idea that she'd found family, never mind royalty. It had always been just her, Mom, and Grandpa. Now here was a grandmother, albeit not welcoming her with hugs and cookies, but still here in the flesh. Or bark. Or whatever.
'Interesting,' the queen said. 'Why are you here?'
'My mother ...' She licked her lips and tried again. 'I think you can help her. She needs your help.' She wondered if she had aunts, uncles, or cousins.
The dryads whispered to one another, a sound like watery wind. The trees swayed. Branches slapped together in the air.
'My daughter died years ago,' the queen said, her voice harsh.
The twelve dryads drew closer together. Leaves and vines curled out from their fingers. Their arms hardened into wood.
Under his breath, Tye said to Lily, 'Don't piss off the foliage. Kind of surrounded here.' He and Jake continued to flank her, one on each side like bodyguards. Lily saw that the dryads had fanned into a circle, hemming them in on all sides.
'I told her not to consort with humans,' the dryad queen said. 'Stay with your tree. Root in our soil. Sing with our wind. But he wooed her with sweet compliments. He lured her from her home, and he led her to her death.' Above, the leaves knotted together, blocking the sun. The forest fell into shadows. Underbrush writhed like snakes.
'She's not dead,' Lily said.
'Impossible,' the queen said. 'She has not returned to her trees. Without our trees, we lose ourselves. We lose our memories.'
