“You’re my tree now?” I asked with wonder. It was rare for a dryad to bond with a tree. Contrary to popular belief, most of us went from tree to tree for centuries. To have a tree to call one’s own was an honor beyond honors. My mom and dad would have been elated for me and would have approved of Sponge Bob heartily. An orphaned dryad finally had a home of her own.
“Indeed, I am yours, child,” Sponge Bob said. “And I couldn’t be more tree-lighted.”
My smile was so wide it hurt my mouth. “I couldn’t be more tree-lighted either.”
“And by proxy, we are your uncles—or rela-tree-ives as I like to say,” Grumpy added.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Doc said with a high-pitched squeal of joy. “We’ve always wanted a little tree sprite of our own.”
“You’re a tree-mendous gift to us,” Sneezy said. “We are gra-tree-fied with our new anses-tree. You are loved, little Willow.”
“I love all of you too,” I whispered. The thought of having someplace that I truly belonged was magical.
“Back to your mission,” Sleepy reminded me. “You must find your wrinkled prunes. We are rooting for you.”
My arboreal family certainly had a way with words.
“I can do this,” I said, taking a deep breath.
“We have faith in you, little one,” Grumpy said. “Faith that you will indeed find your meat clackers and wear them well.”
“Thank you,” I said with a giggle. The intention was supportive. The wording was iffy. “Balls. I want my balls back. And I’m going to Mick Jagger my way through life until I find them.”
“Remember when your stones get tired of rolling, you have a place with us to rest your weary head and change your spandex pants,” Sponge Bob said. “We are your home now and can replenish your power with an embrace.”
Grumpy rustled his leaves. “You’re our little tree-hugger now.”
“Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me,” I said, letting my magic open up and consume me.
“On three,” Doc said encouragingly. “Open your eyes on three.”
“One,” Sneezy said.
“Two,” Sleepy chimed in.
“Three,” I said, opening my eyes and gasping with joy. “Oh thank Goddess, Zach’s alive.”
Chapter Two
Zach wasn’t dead. My heart raced with relief and happiness. He and Zelda were arguing next to Sponge Bob. They were mirror images of each other and beautiful.
Leaning in closer, but staying hidden in the Sponge Bob’s trunk, I listened. Eavesdropping wasn’t good form, but looking out at the world and reentering it were two entirely different things. Watching them was fascinating.
Zelda’s wild red hair blew in the early afternoon breeze, and the sun framed the sister and brother in their stand-off. “You stink,” she announced, slapping her hands on her hips and eyeing her brother with disgust.
While Zach looked exhausted and a little thinner, he also looked hopeful for the first time since I’d known him. He’d been sold at birth to the viciously evil, human voodoo witch, Henrietta Smith. She’d used his blood and magic to hang onto her youth and beauty. He’d been tied to her his entire life by an evil curse. But the haunted despair that had always lived in his eyes was gone. The curse had clearly been broken.
Swiping at a single tear that rolled down my cheek, I thanked the Goddess for sparing Zach and giving him a life that could be joyous. Zach, more than anyone I knew, deserved to be happy.
I had always hoped to be part of Zach’s happiness. Sadly, it wasn’t to be. Although, knowing he’d found his sister gave me peace. I’d longed for a sibling, but I was an only child. However, now I had a real tree family. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was pre-tree dang good.
“Did you hear me?” Zelda demanded. “I said you smell stanky.”
“Thank you,” Zach replied.
“No, dumbass,” Zelda insisted. “I mean it. You seriously need to shower. You smell like a huge butt.”
“I repeat,” Zach said, dryly. “Thank you.”
“Duuuude, it was not a compliment.”
Zach sighed dramatically. “You’re a pain in my ass.”
Zelda laughed and raised her middle finger. “That’s what sisters are for.”
“I didn’t ask for a sister,” he replied, raising his brow.
“Tough titties,” Zelda shot back. “You either go up to the house and take a damn shower or I create a rainstorm with a shit-ton of soap in it.”
“I really smell like butt?” Zach asked with a tired grin.
“Butt is a stretch,” Zelda admitted. “However, it’s not good. Even Fat Bastard and the boys said you were gamey.”
“Your cats complained about the way I smell?” Zach asked with a laugh. “The hairy sons of a bitches rolled in something dead yesterday.”
“It was skunks, and they’re still alive,” Zelda said with a shudder. “I doused those bulbous smack-talking feline idiots in so much douche they’ll never forget it.”
“I’m sorry,” Zach said, squinting at his sister. “Did you just say you douched your cats?”
“Damn right, I did. I had to douche all three of my brain-challenged familiars,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Douche works better than anything when dumbass cats decide to hit on a trio of female skunks. You have no clue how horrifying it was to buy six cases of douche at the store. I’m sure all of Assjacket thinks I have something wrong with my va-jay-jay.”
Zach laughed and let his chin fall to his chest in defeat. “That was more information than I ever wanted to know in my life.”
“I’ve got more where that came from,” she threatened with a wide grin that was identical to her brother’s. “And if you don’t haul your ass up to the house, I’m gonna douche you and enjoy it.”
“Fine,” Zach said. “I’ll shower. Will you stay till I get back?”
Zelda nodded.
“Promise?” he questioned.
“Witch’s honor,” she said. “I’d hug you, but
