“You must knock gently,” it told her, “And you must be polite.”

  “You want me to—” she began, but the pixie grasped her hand, rolling her fingers into a fist, before rapping her knuckles on the tree trunk.

  “You must!” it said, its voice rising in a shrill squeak. “You must! Not even Sereila can protect you—and the unicorns have other matters on their minds.”

  Other matters, and Schaeffer, remembering Winsome, hesitated. She felt the pixie’s fingers tighten around her hand, felt it raise her fist to knock, once more, and then felt it stop. Before she could ask it why, or what was happening, the tree trunk began to glow, which was nothing compared to the roar that shook the bushes under which she’d crawled. She did not need to hear the pixie’s voice urging someone to hurry to know the troll had found them.

  The response was as swift as it was unexpected. Instead of the dryad stepping out of its tree, Schaeffer felt strong, slender fingers wrap themselves around her wrist and pull her forward. She braced for the impact of slamming into the gum tree’s base, stumbling when it was replaced by a moment of resistant stickiness as she passed through the bark and into the trunk.

  I’m not going to fit! she thought, panicking as she thought of just how narrow the tree trunk had been, and feeling bewildered when she wasn’t crushed into a narrow tunnel, or pulled through to the other side. What is going on?

  “Welcome.” A warm female voice surrounded her, and she was brought to a gentle stop, by two hands bracing her shoulders as she broke free of the tree’s skin. Looking around, Schaeffer was surprised to see she had entered another space, entirely.

  She turned toward her rescuer, and found herself staring into a face of such beauty she wanted to weep. Words escaped her, and the dryad smiled.

  Schaeffer lost the ability to breathe. Somewhere, far away, she heard the pixie speaking with rapid anxiety, and then the dryad released her, and Schaeffer remembered how to breathe again.

  “Sit,” the dryad said, and Schaeffer sank to the floor.

  The dryad laughed, mocking her gently.

  “Not there. Come. Here would be much more comfortable, don’t you think?”

  Well, of course! Schaeffer felt foolish as she rose to her feet, and crossed to the seat the dryad indicated. It appeared to be carved from the inside of the tree, itself, or, perhaps, grown in extension. Schaeffer walked over to it, and sat, finding a place for herself amongst the cushions.

  “Normally, I would have stopped to invite you in,” the dryad said, turning to face her, “but there was no time. The troll had almost broken through.”

  Schaeffer nodded, lost for words as she drank in the creature’s beauty, its flawless skin the color of tanned leather, its hazel eyes flecked with gold, its generous curves inviting touch. Somehow, she found enough control to tuck her hands beneath her thighs. The dryad tilted its head and looked at her.

  “You respond to me as most men do,” it said, and Schaeffer felt the heat rise to her skin.

  “I am sorry,” she murmured, struggling to find her voice.

  The dryad regarded her for a moment longer, and then its lips curved into a slow and curious smile.

  “Don’t be sorry,” it said. “I think I like it.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  The pixie gasped, and said a few sharp words in something that might have been beautiful if it had not reminded Schaeffer of thorns. She watched as the dryad shot the little woman a quick, appraising look, and then the tree-woman shrugged.

  “Do not fear,” the dryad said. “I would no more harm someone under Sereila’s care, than I would harm one of the unicorns.”

  Once more, she turned her gaze to Schaeffer.

  “Although, she is beautiful.”

  Schaeffer almost wanted to cry, and felt her heart melting at the dryad’s words, but her mind pulling free of the tree-woman’s enchantment. A brief look of sadness passed over the dryad’s face.

  “Do not be sad, human. When this storm has passed, we can negotiate.”

  Schaeffer felt her heart lift, but, again, the pixie looked horrified.

  “You cannot,” the small creature scolded. “It is forbidden.”

  “Not if the partner is willing, and the proper forms have been observed,” the dryad retorted.

  “But she’s female!”

  “And the attraction is mutual,” the dryad argued. “It is something I wish to know more of.”

  Schaeffer wanted to reach out and hug the dryad with joy, but she didn’t. She watched as the pixie opened and closed her mouth several times, wondering what forms had to be observed, and why the pixie looked so shocked. After all, if humans could find a preference for the same gender, surely it could happen in other races, as well. With an effort, she turned her mind to official matters.

  “I am sorry to have intruded,” she said, and watched as the dryad bit back a response. “I was pursuing a criminal, hoping to stop her before she reached the grove.”

  “Indeed,” the dryad responded. “And what harm did she pose the grove?”

  “I do not know, but I do know that she is in charge of a pixie-dust syndicate.”

  The look that crossed the dryad’s face could have combusted a pixie in and of itself, but it was gone almost as quickly as it had arrived, the tree woman smoothing it away, and replacing it with one of serious contemplation.

  “And you feared for the grove?”

  “We did not know the plane had crashed anywhere near a grove.”

  “You did not know the grove was here?”

  “No, my lady, I did not, but the local elves did.”

  “And where are they?”

  “The unicorns came, and I had to climb a tree.”

  “They left you in a tree?”

  “They saved her life,” the pixie interrupted, and received a stern glare for her trouble.

  “Then how did she get out of the tree before the trolls found her?” the dryad wanted to know.

  “I told her to get down.”

  “In front of a hunting pack?”

  “I knew they would not harm her.”

  “How?”

  “She is a good soul,” the pixie replied. “See for yourself.”

  The dryad looked from the pixie to Schaeffer, and then kept looking. She stared at the officer, until Schaeffer felt as though her gaze would somehow pull her apart, or burn a hole right through her. Finally, she could stand no more of it.

  “What do you see?” she asked, discovering her throat was unexpectedly dry. “What?”

  Her question brought the slightest of smiles to the dryad’s face.

  “I see a good soul,” the tree lady replied. “One I had best see home safely. Stay there. I will see if the trolls have gone.”

  The trolls had not gone, so the dryad brought Schaeffer a blanket for the night, and offered her bread and honey. Schaeffer saw the pixie’s eyes widen, but when the little woman said nothing in protest, she accepted the dryad’s meal, and settled down to sleep.

  She woke to find the dryad standing beside the seat, looking down at her. The tree-woman did not seem ashamed to have been caught staring, but merely gave her another smile.

  “The trolls have gone,” she said. “They cannot stand the light of day. You had a very narrow escape, last night.”

  Last night? Mitch was going to be beside himself, and the elves… What would Sereila say when she returned and did not find her in the tree?

  Some of Schaeffer’s quandary must have shown in her face, because the dryad spoke.

  “I have sent Silver to the elves. Sereila will meet you on the outside.”

  The outside… Schaeffer thought the dryad must mean the outside of the tree, and sat up.

  “Then we should not keep them waiting,” she said.

  “Indeed, no,” the dryad replied, “especially not when justice for the grove must be asked and paid for.”

  Before Schaeffer could ask her what she meant by that, the dryad stretched out a hand to help Schaeffer to her feet.

  “Come. They are growing anxious.”

  As if to punctuate her words, an urgent knocking rang throughout the chamber.

  “More than anxious. Fearful,” and the dryad sounded perplexed.

  Holding tight to Schaeffer’s hand, the tree-woman led the officer through the trunk and out into the bushland beyond. Their arrival made a very worried-looking Sereila take a hasty step back.

  “Greetings, lady elf,” the dryad said. “I believe you are worried for your friend.”

  Schaeffer watched as Sereila looked from her to the dryad and back again.