Seedlings-Spring-from-Cold-Ash felt the pain and surprise through 
her roots, but the Grove was mostly full of confusion. Why was there 
a hole in Boughs-Bend-in-Summer-Storms' head? There was a hole 
in a nearby tree, too. What did it mean? And why were the initiates 
scattering like dry leaves in the breeze? 


nAwN 


The song vanished, and time slowed as Bryan dived for cover. How 
the hell was someone shooting at them? He saw the dryad with the 
goats stumble, a rapidly-filling hole in her head. He saw the 
confusion ripple through the dryads, strawberries scattering from the 
arms of the cute one he'd seen earlier, just yards away. 


He fled the gunfire... and immediately tripped and fell. 
That's it. I'm dead. 


"Standard rounds ineffective." Wilcox's voice was calm, collected. 
This was hardly the first time they'd run into something without an 
allergy to lead. "Switching to incendiary." 


"The fucker is regenerating! Looks like limited regeneration Type 


Red." 


"Miller, profanity. Wilcox, how are the incendiaries working?" She 
tried to project the collected, powerful leader she had to be. 


"More effective, entities are fleeing.” 


"All units, switch to incendiary munitions. Miller, make sure the 
Strike Team knows." 


There were predators in the forest, and they had brought fire. The 
trees shuddered with fear. There were few things they truly feared, 
but fire was one. The initiates were scattered. Seedlings-Spring- 
from-Cold-Ash scooped up the nearest initiate and ran towards her 
tree. Towards safety. 


Bryan's arm was a mass of pain, where the strange tree-girl had 
started to pull him along. The fire in his nerves was echoed by a 
blast of nearby flame, a maple erupting in a shower of shrapnel and 
napalm. A nearby dryad collapsed, her steps faltering as her body 
burned from the inside out. The one pulling him along flinched, 
sending more pain down his abused arm. 


A whoop from Miller temporarily distracted Commander Drummond. 
He had clapped the youngest member of their team on the shoulder, 
congratulating him. 


"The trees are the weak point! Burn the fuckers to the grou-" He 
collapsed with a gurgle, as vines erupted from the ground, thorns 
biting into his carotid and ending his exclamation shortly before his 
life. 


The Grove burned with anger, elders marshaling defenses they had 
never needed. Vines whipped from the ground towards the invaders 


and fog was wrought from thick air. Storm clouds were summoned 
from the sky and thick pillars of stone rose from beneath the earth, 
creating physical and magical defenses. 


Bryan clung to the dryad and survival. The Bookburners! It had to be 
the Bookburners. They would raze the Grove. It would all burn. She 
would burn with her tree. He would die. The seed! Maybe he 
could...? 


Drummond peered from behind a tree. She had to stifle a laugh at 
the irony. Her team was dead. Only her silence and stillness had 
saved her. The Strike team was seconds away. She just had to- 


The sustained thunder of the helicopter brought tears to her eyes! 
She would live! 


They brought a craft with wings of thunder? Well the Grove could 
use thunder too. 


Bryan slapped the seed to the dryad's chest, finishing his chant and 
dropping a prayer to the universe. 


Drummond's one unseeing eye reflected the burning, falling 
helicopter. The other was replaced by a large shard of shrapnel. 
Falling from her hand, a screen displayed: 'Melville Airstrike 
inbound 36:02:53' 


Seedlings-Spring-from-Cold-Ash screamed and collapsed, her tree 
obliterated by a twisting, blazing, shredding mass of metal. Her self 
was burned and ripped apart. She closed her eyes and wept her 


first, and last, tears. 


A seed cracks open, tiny roots finding their way into the open air. 


A figure staggers under the weight of another, one arm hanging 
uselessly. He drags his makeshift travois between two columns. Her 
head bounces gently, hand clutching a seedling to her chest. 


A pair of green eyes open. 
End of Part 1 


| Ash and Maple ~ Part 1 | Ash and Maple ~ Part 2 » 


Ash and Maple ~ Part 2 


Alone. 
The dryad was alone. 


The secret language of the dryads didn't even have a word for being 
alone. Being a dryad meant being interconnected with every other 
dryad in the Grove. It meant a hundred thoughts, experiences, lives, 
all humming in the background. 


She remembered the feeling of a falling metal beast ripping and 
tearing her tree to pieces. Remembered the blades pulverizing her 
branches. The blood of the beast burning through her bark and 
scorching to her heartwood. The screaming and panic pouring into 
her and overflowing and suddenly... ceasing as the world went dark 
and quiet. 


Empty and alone. 


She felt her body jolt as the branches under her dug into her back. 
There was a sensation of movement and a constant stream of 
muttered curses. She exercised control of this form, and opened her 
eyes to the impossible. 


The forest stretched out around her, but it wasn't the Grove. She 
couldn't feel the roots beneath her and the forest was full of 
beeches. She did see maples, but they seemed... wrong. Sickly? 


Some movement caught her eye and she saw the smoke. The 
smoke of her home, her body, her family, billowing into the uncaring 
ashen sky. She felt the aching absence and wept. 


nAwN 


Bryan limped through the forest, muttering curses. Years. Years 
spent seeking power had led to months preparing for this day which 


had become a catastrophe in minutes. 


He deserved that magic. He had earned that magic. Yeah his 
teachers in the Serpent's Hand had stressed that it was a gift to be 
given, but none of them had saved the last member of the Grove 
with a never-before-tried Working. 


And how had he been repaid so far? The crazy tree-chick had 
yanked him across the forest, then flopped to the ground screaming. 


He hissed in pain as a step jolted his arm. It dangled uselessly by 
his side, steadily turning purple. 


nAwN 


A sound like dry leaves rustling brought the dryad back to reality. It 
was the sound of another person! She jerked, falling off the two 
branches on which she was being supported. Her body impacted the 
ground and she tried to scramble back up. She felt... wrong, like a 
plant trapped in a too-small pot, roots tangling and filling the space 
so completely it cracked the pot. At the same time, she felt light and 
empty, truly hungry for the first time. 


One of the humans! Right! She had tried to save one and it looked 
like she had been saved by one. She looked up at him and tried to 
remember how to speak. 


"Hey." His voice held a rasp like the edge of a saw. She tried to 
recoil away and hit her head on the limbs still held in his hand. 


"Chill. We got away from them, for now. We gotta keep moving 
though. A helicopter crash won't kill a Bookburner Strike Team, not 
in those damn suits. They'll probably spend some time burning the 
Grove but | haven't been able to mask our trail.” 


The dryad was filled with a sense of loss so profound she was 
amazed the human could stand under the weight of it. She tried to 
speak but didn't quite have the shape of it. 


"You yanked my arm out of its socket, damn near ripped it off." The 
saw blade was near the surface of his voice again, painful and 
angry. She watched his mouth. So that's what she was doing wrong. 


"Badrieee" She whispered urgently. No, that still wasn't quite right. 


"Now would be a good time to whip out some magic" He looked at 
her, expectant. 


"My tree." She managed to work her mouth correctly, and clung 
weakly to the branch he was holding. 


"Burned to a crisp, probably. | think yours was one of the first to go. 
Come on, we need to move." The words were like a blow. It was 
fresh and bleeding in her mind, the metal beast falling on her tree, 
its spinning blade shredding her and burning blood scorching her 
heartwood. She cried out in remembered agony, and the human 
made a noise like the wind through dry leaves. 


"Shush and come on. The least you can do is walk on your own." 


She flailed again, struggled to her knees, and somehow managed to 
stand. 


"My tree! How...?" She tried a step, and narrowly avoided falling. 


"| used the Grove initiation spell to bind you to that seed." He 
pointed to her chest where she had been clutching it without 
realizing. That explained why she felt so compressed, so root- 
bound. It also explained why she felt so wrong. He had yanked 
her... self? Soul? Spirit? out of her tree and shoved it into a tiny 
seed. It had sprouted during the process. The human dropped the 
branches and started walking. She immediately grabbed the two, 
tied together with a strip of leather. 


"These are part of Strong-Roots-Dig-Deep." 


She realized that this might be all that was left of her best friend. 
The only thing, apart from her, left of the Grove. She would not 
abandon them, not for any price. 


"Okay...? | guess we can bring the sticks if you want. At least we're 
moving." 
He turned, left arm hanging uselessly by his side. 


"I'm Bryan, by the way," He unfastened the leather and put it around 


SCP-791: Water Orb 


SCP-791 at point of initial recovery in [DATA 
EXPUNGED] 


Item #: SCP-791 
Object Class: Safe 


Special Containment Procedures: Containment area is to have a 
sealed drainage system, and any materials or liquids collected are to 
be submitted for testing and review. Emergency drainage systems 
are to be maintained at all times, and must possess no fewer then 
eight filtration screens. 


SCP-791 is to be held in a wide-weave steel mesh bag, to allow for 
ease of location in a “Draining” event, and to pre-contain any 
biological events. Removal from the bag may only be done under 
testing conditions. 


Description: SCP-791 appears to be a mass of liquid water held in 
a spherical shape by an unknown and undetectable force. Biological 
tissues can pass through SCP-791 as they would through normal 
water, and reports indicate the water to be similar to normal sea 
water, but with a lower salt content. It is impossible to “splash” 
SCP-791, however, water may be drawn out via the hands or mouth. 


SCP-791 reacts to non-biological materials, such as stone or metal, 
as if it were a sphere of solid concrete. SCP-791 may be lifted, 
rolled, or otherwise manipulated in this way, but acquiring samples 
with non-biological materials is extremely difficult due to the extreme 
hardness and weight of SCP-791. SCP-791 does not reduce in 
dimensions when water is drawn from it. This is true even when 
withdrawing very high volumes of water. 


The water of SCP-791 is sterile, and contains no microbes of any 
kind. It is almost identical to earth water, but has a slightly elevated 
amount of hydrogen. SCP-791 will randomly undergo “Draining” 


his waist. This accomplished, he picked up one limb, and she 
relinquished it reluctantly. She still had the one in her hand, and it 
seemed they were going in the same direction. Even through the 
anguish, she felt a little thrill. Somehow, she was outside the Grove! 
She was somewhere no dryad had ever been! 


“Thank you for saving me." 


"And your name is...?" The saw was back. Had she broached some 
rule of etiquette? 


"My name was Seedlings-Spring-from-Cold-Ash," A beautiful name 
in Dryad, rendered ugly and twisted by irony. 


"My Dryad isn't great. How does that translate to English?" She 
worked out the translation. 


"Seedlings Spring from Cold Ash," The words tasted like ash in her 
mouth, too. 


"Jesus. That's apt. And lengthy. What do you mean by 'was'?" He 
winced a little with every step. 


"| died when the metal beast hit me. In the instants before the flame 
ate this body, you attached me to this seedling. Thank you. But | am 
dead. Do the dead have names?" He was glancing at her out of the 
corner of his eye, but she paid no mind. Step after step, she walked 
the outside world. A miracle made of death and desperation. 


"Metal beast? Oh... you mean the helicopter..." He seemed to think 
on this for a bit, "I think I'll call you Ashley. | don't want to stumble 
over your whole name every time." 


Ashley accepted this and took yet more impossible steps into the 
unknown. 


nAwN 


Bryan tried to keep in mind the lesson drilled into him by his 
instructor in the Serpent's Hand. 


‘Being chosen by the Grove is a gift. No matter how long you work, 


most of you won't be chosen. This isn't, as I've heard some of you 
suggest, an easy path. You will need to work hard to even get a 
chance, but that work does not obligate them to choose you.' 


But he hadn't just done the preparations. He had saved Ashley's life 
and saved the Grove. That had to entitle him to the joining. She 
would have to make another seed for him to use, but he'd seen his 
instructor bring plants to fruit with her powers, granted by the Grove. 


Ashley was quiet. She seemed to have gotten the hang of walking 
and was following him steadily. She had one hand clutched with the 
seedling on her chest, and the other was holding the branch he'd 
picked up. He could understand why she would be hesitant to let go 
of the last reminder of her friend. He had a locket from his mother 
around his neck- he had ever since she died a decade ago. 


"Where are we going?" Her voice seemed a little stronger. He 
stopped, looking around. 


Fuck. Well if we can get back to Alaska, | might be able to get us to 
the Way. That's if she ever gives me what she owes me. 


"West!" He tried to project as much confidence as he could into the 
single word. 


They walked in silence for a time. Finally, a question bothered him 
enough to break it. 


"Why don't you wear clothes?" Ashley looked down at her form and 
gave him a confused look. 


"Why would | wear cloth?" 


"Don't you get cold? We're in the Yukon Territory. This is Canada. 
Canada is known three things: maple syrup, hockey, and snow to 
the frigging rooftops.” 


She gave him a look that was, for lack of a better word, wooden. 


"We can- we could control the weather. Why bind ourselves with 
strips of cloth and leather when we could wear the wind and sky?" 


"Well if we're going to make it around humans you're going to need 
to we- what do you mean ‘could’? 


"Our magic came from the connection and communion between the 
members of the Grove. We each contributed a drop to the pool." 


"So you can't give me power?" 


"I'm sorry, | don't have any to give. Every drop of magic | have is 
going to sustaining my form." 


He couldn't quell the anger and frustration, so he tried to cover two 
of his problems. 


"Here. Wear my jacket. Someone might see you." 


Silence reigned until they, battered and weary, reached the road. 


nAwN 


Ashley examined the meal on the plate before her. Two glistening 
yolks sat atop their whites, which in turn sat atop a thin crust of burnt 
egg. The bacon was three short strips of grease on a pale square 
approximating bread. It made her wince, remembering the perfect 
sweet strawberries she'd just dropped on the forest floor. 


The branch sat across her lap. It was a little awkward in the cracked 
booth, but she wouldn't abandon it. She was a little nervous about 
Bryan taking it. He'd left behind the one he'd been carrying, and she 
didn't like the way his eyes lingered on hers. 


Very occasionally, the Grove would grant a branch to a special 
mage. It would enhance their connection to the collective and allow 
them to pull more magic from the communal pool. Strong-Roots-Dig- 
Deep's branch wouldn't do that, though. She and the rest of the 
Grove were dead. Ashley was terrified of Bryan abandoning her. If 
he did, she would be completely alone. She took a calming breath 
and glanced around. 


Bryan sat two tables away, talking to himself. Ashley only caught a 
few phrases but they were even less encouraging than the meal.