Dione looked up to face me. The beautiful dryad woman idly fiddled with a spoon as she tried to come up with the words, pressing down against the bowl and letting the handle clink against the table.
"Jev, you need to understand a bit about dryads. When we're first "born" we're like little packets of life energy, flitting from plant to plant. When we finally reach maturity, we're drawn to a tree, which becomes out home, usually for the rest of our lives, and we grow a physical body that lets us interact with the world. But that part of us is bound to the tree we live in. It shapes who we are, informs who we are, our personality. If something happened to my tree, it wouldn't kill me, but I'd need to find a new host tree quickly and when I did, I'd be... different. I'd have my memories and experiences, but the person I am now wouldn't exist anymore."
She sighed, resting her chin against her hand.
"When Mik moved down here, he was mourning the loss of your grandmother. He wanted to have a memorial of some kind, something living to remember her by. Apparently near their home they had an old oak tree that was a place of happy memories. He managed to get an acorn from that tree and brought it here. Our government prohibits non-native flora, but with a few years of arguing with government and getting public sentiment on his side, he eventually got permission. The tree would need to be magically sterilized so it couldn't sprout wild, but it was his to grow so long as it remained his property." Another big sigh, and she continued, "And that's when I came along."
It hadn't really occurred to me that the oak tree in front of the house was unusual. I was hardly a botanist, but there were so many trees around I figured they were out there somewhere. It was yet another reminder that I was somewhere strange, and yet from my apartment in Garnaca, the nearest tree was probably about 6 blocks away, and probably some sort of decorative maple or something. In a way it meant I had more life from my homeland here than I did at home.
"When we're finding a tree, most dryads say they feel a "call" to the tree they eventually make their home. That's what it was like for me. Everywhere there's more of the same: dragonroot trees, windmer, sarponna bark... Some real weirdos might move into a shrub like a boarflower or sammer," she laughed a bit at what was clearly an inside joke while rubbing her fingers against the outside of my glass, picking up droplets of condensation on her fingers, "but this was different, it stood out like a beacon to me. Something new, something
different
."
We were interrupted by the waiter, delivering my lunch. The nektara was a flaky brown roll of pastry sitting on a bed of salad. I took a bite as Dione continued explaining, getting a mouthful of spiced meat filling that reminded me of a donair, but which followed up with a horseradishy punch.
"Well, your grandfather wasn't too happy about his memorial tree becoming someone's home at first, but he was a farmer, and like I'd mentioned before, dryads help the plants grow around their tree. The first time he managed to grow a tomato the size of a softball that was just as sweet and tasty as the ones before, well, he changed his mind pretty quickly."
She smiled wistfully at the memory.
"But for my part, well, I don't think I realized how lonely it is to be one-of-a-kind. Dryads tend to congregate in groves with others of the same tree type. I'm not gonna say that I'm the only oak dryad in all of Emmaria, but if there's others I don't know who or where they are, and I'm not sure I could even spend enough time away from my tree to go visit if I did."
I had put down my lunch, and was listening to her story now, and as she described it, I could see how obvious her pain was. Moisture was welling in her eyes and it seemed like she was on the verge of crying. I'd been so caught up in everything that I hadn't even realized that Dione was still grieving. Grandad had moved to Emmaria when I was only 8. We'd been close before then, but he'd mostly been absent from my life after that. On the other hand, he and Dione had lived and worked together. She was probably closer to him than I was. I reached out, grabbing her hand to comfort her. The move seemed to surprise her, but she clasped it back, thankfully, as she smiled mournfully.
"It sounds like you and grandad were close. Mum and dad had mentioned a friend was helping care for him. I hadn't realised it was you."
She nodded.
"I did what I could to keep him company and keep up the farm as he got sick. Eventually there was just too much to do for me to both travel into the city to see him and keep the farm going, so I kind of let it go to seed."
She cupped her other hand around mine, "And now you're here and I don't know what's going to happen. You're talking about selling the farm, and I don't know what comes next, what will happen to my tree. So, you know, there's some legitimate self-interest."
She smiled regretfully and looked away again, as if looking in my eyes would give her an answer she wouldn't want. I added my other hand to the stack, completing it. She looked back at me, hopefully.
"I can't promise I can just uproot my life and become a farmer. Every houseplant I've brought in my apartment has died; the idea of trying to make my living off of these brown thumbs seems impossible. But I'll promise you this -- no matter what happens, we'll make sure that you can have that tree to yourself. I don't know what that means, whether we need to make a legal change to the deed or something, but we'll get it figured out. No one who helped my grandad should be left in the cold."
Her eyes flashed with joy, seeming to momentarily literally glow green, as she jumped up from her chair, running around beside me to wrap me in a grateful hug and kissing me on the cheek. She smelled nice, like fresh-cut wood and flowers on a spring breeze. As she withdrew, It felt like her fingers lingered just a bit longer on my shoulders. She straightened and moved the plate with my lunch on it back in front of me, as it had been disturbed with all of the handholding.
"Well, better finish your lunch. We've got a lot of things to take care of today."
Together, we finished the afternoon at the solicitor's office, signing papers to take care of the estate and planning, and then met with the funeral home to arrange for grandad's final rest. By the time we got back to the farm, most of the afternoon had passed and there was a hint of orange in the sky. I took my first opportunity to really look over the place. In spite of the overgrowth, it was easy to tell where the farmed ground had been, since it was still less overgrown than the boundary hedges. A small creek formed the western boundary and was crossed by an extremely stout and apparently ancient stone bridge that I hadn't even noticed was there in spite of having crossed it twice. In the centre of the field was Dione's oak, with a trail leading to its base where she regularly walked.
The house itself was a well-built wood cabin, simple but quaint. There were some obvious places where there would need to be some small repairs done, but nothing seemed obviously structurally wrong with it. A small lean-to fixed to the side still held firewood, and the roof was covered in shiny black solar panels, with a line disappearing around the back to the rear of the house.
I entered the house, inviting Dione to join me. It consisted of one large, open space with the kitchen and dining area separated from the living space by a railing. The kitchen was minimal, and a potbelly iron stove apparently functioned both as the main cooktop and the heating for the cabin. There were electric lights, and a few outlets around the room, but the system was clearly an afterthought, and the whole house probably had fewer plugs than my apartment. Still, the power also ran a water pump and heater, so at least there was running, hot water and modern plumbing.
Dione had, it turned out, changed the sheets before I'd arrived, so I moved my luggage into the room, clearing off the sofa to relax in front of the TV that I estimated must've been purchased when grandad had first moved here. There still was nothing in the fridge, Dione having emptied and cleaned it after he moved out so it wouldn't spoil, so I ordered a pizza. It still felt weird ordering food only for myself when there was someone over, but after a bit of discussion, Dione agreed to take a can of BigBuy soda for herself. Being mostly sugar and water it was something she'd occasionally treat herself to, even though the oak generally provided her food and drink requirements.
I settled in with Dione on the couch to watch some TV to pass the evening, but apparently the day had been longer than I thought. I woke up to the sound of knocking at the door. Dione was looking at me with an amused smile.
"Shut up, you," I said with false indignance, but that only made the smile wider. I paid for the pizza and dug in, handing Dione her drink as I cracked one of my own. We talked about our memories of my grandad, what things were like in Garnica, my family. I'd ordered a 6-pack of the sodas, and Dione surprised me by taking a second. As the conversation drew on, I began to notice that Dione was beginning to get gigglier. She was sitting closer to me on the couch, touching my thigh and my arm more. She was also starting to slur her words.
"Uh, Dione... are you feeling ok?"
