Chapter 11

"Sp-Sparrow..." Haledon stumbled over his words as he rushed through the veil after her. "Sparrow, what was that?"

Stopping in the middle of the corridor, Sparrow turned to face Haledon with a finger held high.

"The first lesson about Earth Druids is that you need to display your power to get their attention." She lectured. "Mesa and I have predated on each other over many years. This was just another attempt of his to undermine me. I needed to show the other Druids that I refuse to compromise our balance with Nature—not out here. Not now."

"Why does he go after you?"

Sparrow turned and started to walk again with a determined pace.

"I was once in a Grove with Mesa that was overseeing the Greening of Venus—a planet of the Sol system. There was a Mecharrion assault, and we had a conflict of interest that divided the Grove. It cost us time and half of the planet."

"Who was right?" Haledon asked cautiously.

"No one is right in war." She replied mournfully, her gaze lost a thousand yards away.

Sparrow shook herself out of the trance, continuing, "Remember that, Haledon. War only takes life and gives sorrow."

There was a palpable silence between the two as Haledon contemplated what Sparrow had said. His eyes wandered the corridor, eventually locking with a pair of Druids standing alert. He noticed the finely crafted crossbows that hung from their waist.

Beyond them, the ship's windows revealed Astraloideas zipping through space in a graceful dance that, for a moment, distracted Haledon from the destruction that floated along. Even further away, Megacolides still oscillated anxiously, ready for a fight.

Haledon was confused as he looked back at Sparrow.

"How—" He paused, searching for the words. "If war only takes life and gives sorrow, how do the Druids achieve peace through war?"

"Good question. One that I'll let you know the answer to when I figure it out." Sparrow stopped and observed her surroundings for a moment before closing her eyes. "Your Guild will be meeting shortly, and I need something from the Colides. Meet me in the Hypogeal Nexus."

Without time to answer, Haledon watched as Sparrow bent down to the ground. Plucking a root from the floor, she lifted it above her head while her free hand traced patterns in the air. In an instant, her body transformed into a bramble silhouette that crumbled to a pile of humus on the floor.

"Sparrow?" Haledon yelled and looked around frightfully. "Sparrow!"

Reaching for the fluffy soil in a panic, he searched for any evidence of the Druid. Fear and dread clouded his mind as he found himself believing Sparrow's death had happened before his eyes. His thoughts raced with conspiracies, trying to convince what his eyes witnessed.

"Haledon, I am fine." He heard Sparrow's whisper as a chilling sensation kissed at the back of his neck. "Now, meet me in the Hypogeal Nexus."

Haledon's eyes widened in the realization of his unnecessary panic. He inspected the corridor shyly, his arms still buried to the elbows in the compost. The two Earth Druids he noticed earlier stared in his direction with a curious look as they shared a light chuckle.

Jumping to his feet, Haledon brushed off his hands with an awkward nod to the Druids. Then, without hesitation, he began to walk quickly down the hall. He could feel the warmth of embarrassment in his cheeks as a trickle of sweat raced from his temple.

He had made it through several pods before finally slowing his pace and relaxing. Finally confident that he had escaped the embarrassing moment, he realized that he was already near the Hypogeal Nexus.

Approaching the final node, he found the hall blocked by a group of mourning Druids. Unusual sounds came from the mass, as whistles and chirps became the melodic tunes of woodwind instruments. Somewhere within the noise, a person had begun to pick at the strings of a lute. A haunting symphony came into focus, and Haledon felt compelled to stay and listen. But he pulled himself away, focusing again on his task.

Following the left lateral root, he listened to distant, whispering voices. As he approached a blind corner, the once muffled discussion became a roar of conversation and laughter.

Haledon saw a circle in the middle of the hall made of five figures sitting atop hastily grown stumps. Roots snaked around the seats, and moss had begun to crawl up from the ground in thick mats.

Four unfamiliar Druids sat with large goblets in their wooden hands. Two wore the red bark of Sequoia Squad and sat with their back to Haledon. The other two were in different SOILs, the first covered in a bright rainbow eucalyptus, and the other layered in green bark adorned with cream spikes.

The fifth figure was familiar to Haledon and was beckoning him over.

"Haledon!" Witch-Hazel yelled out cheerfully, waving a free hand.

The collective of faces turned to observe the Druid.

"Witch-Hazel?" He replied as he approached them. "What's going on?"

"Celebrating the lives of our fallen Druids. Come. Come sit."

Witch-Hazel waved Haledon over as a sixth stump grew to accommodate him.

"I—Sparrow needs me in the—"

"Yeah, yeah—we'll go to the Nexus in a minute."

Witch-Hazel turned and placed a hand on the wall. Roots coiled into the shape of a stein as viscous sap dripped from an exposed nutrient line.

"What the forswyn? You can't just cut into the nutrient lines and drink them!" Haledon yelled and struggled to reach for the vein.

"Relax, I tested it first. The alkaloid and antifreeze levels are within a safe range. Fermentation has started, and as such, so has the party."

"Huh-yah!" The others cheered as they chugged from their goblets.

"Primeval—Farran, never taught me about fermentation in the nutrient lines?"

"He probably didn't know. It only happens after a seeding. The nutrient distribution rebalances throughout the ship with the aid of fermentation. It's like a champagne send-off!"

"Champagne?"

"Alcohol."

"Alcohol?"

"You've never had alcohol?" Witch-Hazel stared at Haledon with surprise. "The only way Sparrow could get me into space was the promise of this sweet treat. And you're telling me you've never had it?"

Haledon could feel his face becoming warm again as he looked at the Earth Druids' interrogating eyes.

"What? No, I—umm, yeah. I've had alcohol, but, you know—I wasn't sure what Earth Druids considered alcohol."

Witch-Hazel peered through Haledon's ruse but did so with a smile and a nod.

"Great." The bramble laughed and thrust the drink into Haledon's hands. Some of the beverage's amber liquid sloshed against his SOIL and slowly absorbed into the leaves.

Taking a seat, he looked at Witch-Hazel and the rest of the group. They watched him expectantly, the liquor glistening against their lips.

With a look down at the stein, he observed the thick sap that sloshed slowly around as he moved his hands. Haledon raised the mug to his lips. The liquor's initial sweetness excited his taste buds into urging him to tip the drink back. But, as the fluid made its way down his throat, the burning began to make itself apparent.

Slamming the stein to his legs, Haledon shook his head aggressively with a hiss. The warmth spread outward across his chest, and he could feel the beating drum of his heart against his ribs.

"It's good." He coughed and took a breath.

The group laughed, and Witch-Hazel placed a hand on Haledon's shoulder. With a nod of approval, the wooden being tipped its drink back. The fluid flowed over its face and into the bramble foliage, where it disappeared.

"So, Witch-Hazel, how's it been going being Sparrow's private bramble?" The rainbow Druid asked with a smirk before taking another drink.

"She knows her way around the Astra," Witch-Hazel replied coyly and glanced at Haledon before tipping the rest of the goblet onto its mouth.

"I heard she was going before the Grove." A Sequoia Druid spoke up with his drink outstretched.

"Yeah, going to get the chop by Mesa." The other laughed as she tapped goblets with her friend.

"No," Haledon spoke up. The group turned to face him, and he could feel his stomach begin to twist anxiously.

"She, umm, she went before the Grove." He stammered. "But she—uhh, gave a show of power and walked out."

Witch-Hazel released a deep, bellowing laugh and looked towards the group. "She knows her way around the Grove, too—huh?"

The other Druids took a drink and sat in quiet for a moment. Haledon inspected their faces and could see a frustrating disappointment begin to reveal itself.

"What about you?" The female Sequoia Druid asked, reaching her drink in Haledon's direction.

"Haledon, was it? How are you handling this one?" She finished and nodded towards Witch-Hazel.

"Uhh," Haledon looked at the bramble knight and back to the Druid. "Good. It's surprisingly good at flying." He smiled.

"It?" Witch-Hazel replied curtly. "I am a person, you know, not a creature or construct."

"I—uh, I'm so sorry." The feeling of embarrassment again rushed through Haledon's veins. He could feel himself becoming flushed as he looked around to see the Druids looking at him, eagerly observing his response.

"Were you a man or a woman?"

"My old physical gender is irrelevant. I identify as myself, regardless of what's between my legs. I've lived life as male, female, and neither," Witch-Hazel waved a hand over the wooden body. "My body changes like the seasons, through life and death. And right now, in this life, I do not identify with your binary perspective."

"What would you prefer me to say?" Haledon asked curiously, learning something new.

"I guess I prefer you say they, or them, if you must use some denotation. Calling me an 'it' just sounds, ugh," They cringed. "Like I'm some blighted oak."

"I'm sorry if I upset you, Witch-Hazel."

"Hey, it's fine. Astra Druids are from a time before Arboreal Juggernauts. You had no way of knowing—anyway, how's that sap?"

Haledon looked down into his stein and sniffed. Pulling the drink to his lips, he took another swig. He coughed through the burn, feeling the warmth flowing to the extremities of his limbs.

"Good," Haledon grunted and looked over at the other Druids. "It burns."

"That's because it's good stuff." Witch-Hazel laughed as they tapped the nutrient line again, filling their goblet as they stood. "Anyways, we need to get going."

"Catch a tweet from your little bird?" The Druid with green bark finally spoke up between gritted teeth. "Time to drift off like a good seed."

Haledon paused, staring between the Druid and Witch-Hazel. Their gazes locked as an uncomfortable tension filled the space.

"Yeah," Witch-Hazel replied with a growl as they removed the goblet from the wall. "Good catching up."

The green-bark Druid drank from his goblet as the rest raised their drinks in a final salute to Witch-Hazel.

"Nice meeting everyone," Haledon said with a nervous smile.

The Druids returned a polite nod before continuing their discussion amongst themselves.

Witch-Hazel guided Haledon away, and the two marched down the corridor in silence for a moment. Eventually, Witch-Hazel took a drink from their mug and released a sigh.

"They didn't seem to like Sparrow." Haledon finally spoke.

"What—oh, no, not at all," Witch-Hazel replied and looked back as if just remembering that Haledon was there. "Cliff lost his brother in the Mecharrion attack, and he's a Mesa supporter. All of them are Mesa's Carnyx Druids."

"I've heard that term before."

"Carnyx Druids? Probably. They're Druids that find their balance in Nature through the destruction of Mecharrion. Sparrow seeded the term to describe Druids who were loud voices for war. It was an attempt to demean them, but it just strengthened their ranks."

"Didn't you take an oath to destroy the Mecharrion?"

"Eh—different kind of oath."

Haledon thought for a moment as he walked alongside Witch-Hazel.

"Why do they hate her?" He asked.

"Sparrow likes you, that's good," Witch-Hazel said before taking another drink. "There aren't a lot of people that fall in that category. She has done a lot of good for Nature over her lifetimes, but those lifetimes open doors to plenty of opportunities for mistakes. Carnyx Druids focus on those shortfalls and ignore the cultural advances she advocated."

"Witch-Hazel...how do Earth Druids live multiple lifetimes?"

"Oh, wow—umm, that question requires more time than we have to discuss." Witch-Hazel stumbled awkwardly around the topic. "And look at that, we're here."

With a thrust of their drink forward, Witch-Hazel walked through the grass veil of the Hypogeal Nexus, leaving Haledon outside.

Haledon took a moment for himself, processing the whirlwind of the day. Taking a breath, he felt the warmth of the alcohol tingling at the tips of his toes. With a sway, his eyes closed, and a skunky odour wafting from beyond the veil stung at his nostrils. A squeaky cough echoed in the room, followed by an explosive fit of laughter.

"What is going on?" He muttered to himself as he pushed through the grass barrier into the Hypogeal Nexus.