Nature and Nurture: Finding the Perfect Blend

Chapter 14: The Wild

Stiles arrived at the Nemeton almost as soon as he thought of it. He popped right into the sunlit space on top of the stump. He opened himself up to the Nemeton and with a little magical pull and twist, cloaked the old grove. He twined the earth's magic to mislead footsteps, warped the light so no stray sight could penetrate and tuned the air so no ear could hear or nose could smell.

When there was no way for anyone to find the Nemeton and therefor himself, Stiles fell across the stump and dipped down deep into its core. He let it wrap around him. The grove and the forest merged with him until Stiles Stilinski fell away and he was himself no more.

***

He was watching the passing of time; light, dark, days, nights. They were moving and he moved with them, sometimes walking through the forest, sometimes running. Sometimes he was still, so still the animals forgot he was there and came close to him. Even if he moved they had no fear of him because he was the trees, the earth, the air, the sky, the sun, the rain and the lightning. He slept when he was tired, he ate the sunlight and earth energy, and drank the rain in its many forms of dew, mist and creek and the rivers small and wide.

He watched the flowers bud, the leaves become heavier and the plants push their way through the ground towards the sky. He could feel the movement of the earth, the growth and death of everything in his forest. He watched the deer birth their fawns and welcomed a new wobbly legged bright-eyed one who nudged his outstretched hand in search of milk and connection.

He climbed the tallest trees. He swayed with the wind in their topmost branches, through the heaviest of lightning storms and the lightest of airy breezes.

He laughed, long and free, the first time the song of the stars became audible. He watched them dance across clear bright night skies and into early mornings.

The weather got warmer and he rejoiced to feel the sunlight heating through him, deeper and stronger as the days got longer.

He maintained the magic that concealed the Tree and remained hidden from all those on two legs who trampled heavily on the land. They were not of the forest and not to be trusted. There was sometimes a pulling on the Tree's boundaries. He marked the ones who came to disturb and made sure to send them further away each time. He laughed at their fumbling attempts and if his glee reached their ears, it only made him laugh longer when they flinched and called out to each other when they got separated by his tricks.

There was one who was slyer than the rest and got the closest more than once. This one was always alone and smelt of bad things, bad memories that made him hiss and want to attack. Instead, he coaxed the bad-smelling one into falling off a short cliff. They'd been hurt and angry, but had stayed away from then on, and he'd been glad and relieved.

There was a wolf pack that howled at night with a coyote. He'd never seen them, only listened to their howls and tracked them by using earth magic. They had slippery magic of their own, he could never catch a glimpse of them and it intrigued him. He only ever found the annoying two-legs.

The howls sounded like they were for him. He wanted to call back but remained silent, listening to them ranging over the forest. It confused him that the pack would call for him because they were strangers. He must be mistaken.

The wolves had eventually moved on as the days got warmer, their howls stopped and he was saddened by their loss. Even the coyote went. The nights were silent and he missed their comforting mournful cries.

He was high up in one of his sleep trees one very warm night, swinging upside down by his legs, when a lone wolf's howl echoed over the mountain ridge.

He dropped down to the ground and raced through the forest, trying to find it. He changed direction as it called again. He was sure it was one of the wolves from the pack and it called for him. He could feel the pull of its howl as he jumped over and around obstacles, flitting along, making no noise. He almost called back, although he couldn't howl like a wolf, but stayed silent. Even though his blood rushed faster the closer he got, he was also wary of danger.