I nodded to her and smiled, motioning to the food before me, and did not speak. I kept shelling the walnuts and placing them on the cloth before me.

  She approached slowly and kept looking around as if expecting a trick or a trap. This method could be used to ensnare a dryad, and given her age, she was probably right to be cautious. Her fear must have gotten the better of her because she slowly started to back away. I had to take a chance speaking with her sooner than I would have preferred.

  In my softest, calmest voice, I said, “I’m sorry I could not find any fresh mushrooms. I remember you enjoyed it when my mother brought them to you on summer mornings.”

  I did not make eye contact with her, but kept slowly working on the walnuts and went back to humming. Either she would join me, or she wouldn’t. Trying to coax her in or convince her with words that I was sincere would certainly scare her off, probably for good.

  A few minutes later, I saw her out of the corner of my eye as she approached, hesitated, and sat before me. I did not look up but kept humming. I noticed her head moving side to side, looking for danger, but she sat unnaturally still otherwise.

  “I offer these gifts of the mother freely and without condition or constraint.” I smiled again and looked up. “I am a little hungry myself, and if you don’t mind sharing, I’d like to join you.”

  She stared at me a moment longer and smiled. “You always did like walnuts. That is why your mother brought them and led you to believe they were for me. I would not eat the seeds of a tree.”

  I looked up and felt panic. “I am so sorry. I meant no offense. I thought-”

  She held up her hands. “There is no offense. The Mother provides these, and they are as nourishing as anything. But you may eat them; I will partake of the honey and water.”

  “Please do.” I thought hard, trying to recall my memories. “But I am certain I gave you walnuts to eat as a child.”

  I recalled her laughter, which fell like rain through a forest canopy and fell upon me again. “Oh yes, you would bring me a walnut every few minutes, interrupting your mother’s stories and our talks. You did not realize that you usually brought me the same one back each time after I gave it to your mother, and she placed it back on the blanket she brought for you when you were tired and needed to sleep.”

  Those were more words than she had ever spoken to me across the several years we visited her, and our visits were often at least once a week.

  “Now I really feel bad that I did not look harder to track down some mushrooms,” I said.

  She laughed again. It was as much in my mind as it caught in my ears. “You can owe me a cluster of mushrooms on your next visit.”

  I caught my breath, fearing some affront on my part.

  She gestured with her hands, “Not an obligation, merely the request for a shared courtesy.” She assured me.

  “Oh, I’m a bit out of my element and feared I said something wrong,” I said quietly.

  “No, you are behaving as a true gentleman and learned these manners well from your mother.” She smiled again. “She still comes to visit me, you know. And she often talks about you. I understand that you have some magical test soon, and I presume you are here for some favor or wisdom.”

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  I lowered my head. “I am ashamed that the first visit with you in many years is to ask a favor I have not earned the right to request.”

  She thought about that for a full minute before responding, “Friendships require no tally or count with favors. However, not all favors, even among friends, can be met without some price. One could also argue that as a child, you offered me your walnuts as gifts in true giving without any expectation of reward or favor.”

  “But walnuts are a paltry gift, especially if you never ate them,” I replied.

  “You gave all that you had. That you had little matters little. I received them. That I decided not to eat them after receiving your gift also matters not. The gift was given.” She smiled again. “And you gave very, very often.”

  I could almost see my young self handing walnut after walnut to her and receiving a smile in return for the gift.

  She reached out and lifted the honey pot. It looked large in her hands, but her strength was considerably more than a human of her frail size would accomplish. She scooped it with her hands and consumed large portions of it.

  “In the future,” she began between bitefuls, “please do not bring so much honey. It is a rare delicacy for dryads, and we cannot stop eating all we can. I will suffer a stomach ache after all of this.”

  “I’m not doing so well today,” I said.

  She laughed again. “I am enjoying the memories and this honey too much to care about that right now.” She scooped another mouthful of honey. Less than half the pot remained.

  “Ask me for your favor while I am in this mood. It is your best chance at success.” She said it in an odd voice, her eyes slightly glazing over.

  “As a part of my mage trials, I will construct a mage staff. I have learned the Elf Song from my mother and had hoped, with your guidance, to sing a branch of your tree that I could keep with me always.”

  She stopped eating, and her eyes momentarily flared red. But they calmed down to their deep purple soon after. “You ask much, even as a friend.”

  “I understand.” I knew that even if I could meet with her, which was unlikely, getting her to agree to give me a branch of her tree was nearly impossible. It was like asking a good friend for one of their toes. It would have to be a very good friend indeed who answered yes to that unusual request.

  “Then it will be a gift for a gift. I intended to ask your mother to send you to aid me with a problem.”

  For the briefest moment, I thought I heard running water. I looked around, expecting to see a stream erupt around me.

  She froze in place. “But that can await another day. I grant you your request, young mage, in anticipation of a future boon because of your hospitality and friendship with your mother, whom we both love, honor, and owe our lives.”

  I understood that she just said yes to my request, but there was a lot in this that I would have to unpack later.

  “The time must be now for your song. Come back some other day for a visit as you promised, and be sure to bring mushrooms and my favorite walnuts.”

  I chuckled, thinking she was teasing me, but I saw from the look of fear on her face that she was serious and trying to tell me something.

  “I will.” That was all I managed to reply.

  She got up. “Choose your branch from this side of me, sing your song, and be gone before the sun sets.” And with that, she disappeared right before my eyes.

  I cleaned up my ill-planned picnic and noticed groups of people walking around the pond and grassy paths. They would all be gone by the time the night orbs flared, and some instinct told me I must be gone by then as well.

  The song was magical, but usually took just a single casting point to achieve. I rubbed my hand gently along the bark and quickly spotted a branch that would serve my purposes. I sang gently, enjoying the living wood, nurturing it, and shaping it to my needs. Crafting the staff and leaving the tree unharmed took half an hour. I sang a few minutes longer to the tree, offering strength, vitality, and appreciation. Given that it was a dryad’s tree, I was unsure how my magic would strengthen her, but it was a courtesy worth my time.

  While I do not know exactly how, at two times during my singing, a second and then a third casting point were used. It would be something I needed to investigate.

  The mage staff I held as it separated from the tree was living wood. It was more substantial than any piece of similar wood could be and rivaled iron in strength. It also had magical properties that, thanks to my readings of Damascus, could be used in ways long forgotten by human mages of today and perhaps, even by elves.

  As I departed the mossy ground and her tree, I felt a cold sensation and was immediately uncomfortable. The feeling did not emanate from the tree but was very close to it. I moved a little more quickly and joined the last group of parkgoers being escorted out by a pair of city watch guards.

  I saw nothing move behind me, but I felt I had been followed to the edge of the woods, where I joined the soldiers and park stragglers. The day orb dimmed, and the night orbs lit the sky as we exited the small gravel paths and onto St. Michel’s Way.

  Whatever it was that I felt had been close. Very close. And if I had lingered any longer, I might not have left the woods unharmed.

  Something was very wrong around Park Pond.