"Why do you spend money for what is not bread, and your wages for what does not satisfy? Listen carefully to Me, and eat what is good, and delight yourself in abundance." -- Isaiah, Christian Bible

  -----

  Caleb's mind felt like a top about to spin it's way off a table. His heartbeat drowned out the symphony of birdsong as the forest around him played forth it's ancient song of the morning. In front of him, Gaia and Juniper waited patiently as he brought his thoughts into focus.

  Caleb stood for a moment, looking between Gaia and Juniper.

  His thoughts burst out in a rush, "What is so important about me? What am I doing here? What are *you* doing here?" With hardly space for a breath, he sputtered on, "My thoughts are in a whirl, like I just can't process all of this, there is just..." He trailed off as his thoughts overran his tongue.

  "How is this possibly going to make any sense? or is this what losing your shit feels like?" He had to stop himself before hyperventilating and turned to find a place to sit down. "I might pass out."

  He jumped when Gaia's gentle hand touched his shoulder.

  "Little one, this may be altogether too much, I understand." Her voice was calm and reassuring, "A redwood is not expected to reach the canopy in a day."

  Juniper plopped down cross-legged beside him with her head cradled in her tiny hands, big eyes blinking up at him.

  "I'll take care of you Caleb." The matter of fact tone of her voice caused him to crack the barest hint of a smile.

  Even Caleb’s fear and uncertainty couldn’t stand against such pure innocence. Juniper’s charm soon quieted the storm inside him. Still, there were questions that needed answering.

  “What am I supposed to do? I see you doing what I can only assume is magic, and I’m talking to the spirit of a tree.” He let out a long breath. “I’m just one person in a huge world full of gods and... I don’t even know what else.”

  Gaia held out her hand to him, and—hesitantly—he reached back. Her eyes were like storm clouds over a desert, but her voice was calm.

  “I will empower you for what comes next,” she said, her voice a blend of grace and strength. “Will you, Caleb Calhoon—still unbound and mortal—bring yourself into attunement with me? In so doing, you will be aligned with the planet and the forces that dwell within it.”

  Caleb was stunned by the formality of her request and took a moment to feel for the answer inside himself. It wasn’t long in coming. Almost without effort, the words rose of their own accord.

  “I, Caleb Calhoon, the mortal, will attune myself to you, Gaia, goddess of earth.”

  Caleb felt himself lost in the goddess’s eyes and the gravity of the moment. Something deep within him—something ancient and primal—stirred and awoke. For the briefest instant, he could feel the breath of the earth beneath him. He sensed every footfall for miles, every whisper of a feather, every acorn as it tumbled from branch to soil.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  It was too much. The sensation overwhelmed him, and he pitched forward as his vision shrank into darkness.

  When he awoke, his mind was more his own. A strange fuzziness lingered in his thoughts, and his vision swam. Reaching up to steady himself, he found once again that he was enshrouded in a cocoon of vines and leaves. But at a thought, the wrappings loosened and fell away.

  He sat slowly, giving himself time to regain his senses. He must have been out for a while—the sun had mostly gone, and stars were beginning to wink through the indigo sky.

  Across from him, Juniper sat with her feet sunk into the earth like roots, idly playing with a pebble. Caleb watched as she held it up and blew on it. To his astonishment—though, by now, it was getting hard to be truly amazed—the stone melted into a pile of sand, which she let dribble through her fingers.

  Then she held her hand flat over the bare earth in front of her. Her tiny face scrunched in concentration, and the sand began to shape itself back into a small pebble. She let her breath woosh out, as if she'd been holding it, and beamed at him—holding up the newly formed pebble in triumph.

  Caleb watched Juniper repeat the process two more times before he tried to mimic her. He could almost feel the little bits of sand—if he focused hard enough. He suddenly understood why her face was always scrunched in concentration. His own must’ve looked ridiculous, judging by the way Juniper’s giggles startled him from his first attempt.

  “Don’t try so hard,” she managed between laughs. “And don’t stick your tongue out like that—you’ll bite it off!”

  She grinned as her laughter subsided. “For now, just focus on… sort of tickling the sand.”

  Caleb leaned forward to try again—but Juniper suddenly whispered, hoarse and sharp, “Caleb! There’s something looking at us!”

  He spun on his heels and nearly toppled before catching himself. His hand scrabbled for his staff, heart pounding, eyes locked on the strange creature that had crept into their clearing.

  It stood maybe three feet tall, covered in matted greenish fur—though when the smell hit him, Caleb guessed the green came more from what was growing in the fur than the fur itself.

  A rush of names flooded his mind—goblin, troll, gremlin—but none of them prepared him for what one of those things actually looked like.

  He held the staff awkwardly in both hands, like it would protect him. He’d only ever used it to steady himself on hikes—never as a weapon. But now, it was the only thing between him and... that.

  The creature regarded him with mocking uncertainty. There was a cruel intelligence in its eyes. It snarled something in a harsh, strangled tongue. Caleb didn’t understand the words—but the intent was clear.

  “Stay back!” Caleb cried. His voice wavered, but he planted his feet. “Go away! I have nothing for you.”

  The creature snapped something in return and lowered its head like a dog preparing to lunge. One clawed hand reached for a fist-sized rock, and Caleb’s gut dropped. He realized that he was in for a fight—and he wasn’t ready.

  With a choking snarl, the creature hurled the rock. Caleb flailed his staff like a baseball bat—pure reflex. He clipped the rock just enough to send it sailing into the bushes behind him.

  The creature chuffed, clearly laughing at him.

  Then it charged.

  It bounded forward on all fours, its long arms giving it an ape-like lope. It covered the ground between them in an instant.

  Caleb braced, ready to be bowled over—but Juniper stepped up beside him, her fingers glowing green.

  With a shout, she scooped her hands up in a wild, two-handed motion, like she was bowling. The ground rippled outward before exploding into a mass of vines that erupted around the charging creature, snaring it mid-stride.

  Her little face was locked in a fierce scowl.

  “Bonk it, Caleb!” she screamed. “Before it gets out! Bonk it!”

  He didn’t hesitate. Caleb ran forward and swung the staff in a wide arc. The impact sent a jolt up his arms, he nearly lost his grip—but he held on and brought the staff down in an overhead swing.

  The blow connected with the creature’s skull. It went still.

  Caleb stared at the creature's remains, still wrapped in vines. The staff fell from his suddenly numb fingers before he turned and doubled over, dry heaving into the leaves.