Chapter One

Silas

“You’re going to the city again? Why?”

Silas glanced up at his sister, and then bent his head to make sure his belt was properly fastened. He wasn’t a fan of pants, but being among people, they were a necessity.

“We go through this every week, and I keep going,” he reminded her quietly. “I don’t expect you to understand…”

“You’re right, I don’t.” Wanda’s curls flew around as she shook her head. “The city isn’t a place for the likes of you and me. We belong here, in the forest. No horrid smells, no loud and horrible noises, no synthetic food, and people acting strange.”

Silas’s stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t had dinner. “I’m only going out for a few hours, just like I always do on a Friday. I’ll be having a burger while I’m in town. Did you want me to bring you one?”

The torn expression on Wanda’s face was comical. Silas knew how tempting ‘outside food’ was to his normal, health-loving sister.

From the outside, they looked so much alike—the same brown curls and soft facial features. Wanda’s eyes were wider and a beautiful shade of emerald green, whereas Silas’s were a deep brown. But they were both slender, and Silas was only an inch taller than his sister.

Looks aside, the siblings had very different personalities. Silas viewed life as being a great adventure—he had no issues with people, noises, or smells that made him cough at times. Those experiences added color to the vibrant life he saw in the people when he visited populated areas.

Wanda preferred to focus her time strictly on her trees, and that was fine. That was the way of their kind. No one saw it unusual that Wanda refused to consider or appreciate life outside of the forest. She was, in Silas’s opinion, a beautiful person, even with her limited views. In fact, her only annoying trait was the habit she’d gotten into of turning up at his house every Friday night, trying to dissuade him from going into town.

“They’re not healthy,” Wanda said at last. “The last time you brought me back a burger, I ate it and was hungry again in no time at all.”

“Is that your way of asking me for two of them?” Silas flicked his sister’s curls as he hurried past her, grabbing his wallet and boots. “I’ll bring you two. If you don’t eat them, then I’m sure our friendly troll Dougal won’t object to eating them for you.”

“You’d better bring back half a dozen if you plan on feeding any to Dougal,” Wanda huffed. “Better yet, why don’t you stay in the forest this evening? Dougal would love to see us. He might even have marshmallows. We can roast them over his fire pit, drink some of his brew, and you can share your beautiful voice with the trees as they turn their leaves up to the moon.”

“There’s a world beyond our beloved trees, sis.” Silas hugged his sister, avoiding clouting her with his boots. He checked his living space to make sure he had left nothing on the stove, and that his lavish fern was happily snoozing under the window ledge. “Think of all the tension those poor people in town go through, having to struggle every day just to survive and feed their families. The trees in our forest know I love them dearly, especially my own special beauty.” He grinned as his tree shook a branch in his always open window.

“My nature spirit also understands how much this means to me, being able to sing for someone else. Just imagine how you might feel, if you were at the end of your week, worn down, depressed, tired, and lonely. And you hear a song—one you can believe for a brief moment is being sung just for you. A song that makes you smile. What an amazing gift that would be, don’t you think?”

Folding her arms across her chest, Wanda shook her curls. “Are you absolutely sure it has nothing to do with the sexy men in their business suits, or the leather jackets and jeans you fantasize over when you’re in your bed at night? Are any of your songs for people like them?”

Chuckling, Silas tugged on his boots and stood up, straightening his pants. “When I sing in public, I have no idea who might hear my words, or feel the intent behind them. I just like singing.”

“Don’t forget my burgers,” Wanda grumbled as Silas went over and retrieved the small collection of leaves his precious tree kept for him as something he could wear whenever they were parted.

“I won’t be long,” he whispered, tucking the leaves into his hair at his temples, feeling connected deep inside to his tree. “Just long enough.”

Rustling leaves accompanied him as he left his small cottage. His tree was on the edge of the forest area, and Silas didn’t have to walk for long until he came to the main road where a taxicab was idling on the side of the road.

“Hi George, are you having a good week?” Silas asked, opening the passenger door, and climbing into the vehicle.

“I’m doing well enough.” George never said a lot, but in the four months Silas had been traveling with him, once a week on a Friday, Silas liked to think they had reached an understanding of what counted as small talk between them. “Are you going to a fancy dress this week?”

Shocked that George had said anything beyond his “well enough” statement, Silas looked down at his clothes. Darnation. Silas had put on his pants and boots, but he was still wearing the half robe he typically wore at home, except now it resembled a top of some kind—one with almost no back to it at all. Blooming Wanda could’ve warned me before I left. It’s her fault I forgot my T-shirt.

Plucking at the thin material, Silas chuckled, deciding there was no harm in staying just as he was. “Just as well I don’t feel the chill, aye, George? At least I have pants on.”

George muttered something Silas couldn’t hear, but Silas wasn’t worried. The older man would be worried about him, and that was pure sweetness. Silas never objected to a vibe like that.

He looked out the window eagerly as the taxi made its way into town. There was something in the air, almost like an electrical storm was brewing. Silas didn’t know what was causing it, but he felt a shimmer of excitement run down his spine as the darkness of the forest made way for the lights and bustle of town.