“Tannin…?” Annie asked slowly. “Like the brown stuff in leaves and sticks?”

  Luka squinted. Sure, he had heard the word “tannin” before, but was that really what it was? “Brown stuff?” He spared a glance at the elf, finding the woman to almost be a normal looking elf. Where elves normally had thin ears the length of a flattened palm, Jear’s fluted back like wheat swaying in the wind. They sat firm on the sides of her head, not so much as flopping around as she moved.

  The elven consort eyed Annie. “You know my husband’s name?”

  “I know how the World Walker translation magic says it in my head,” she replied, scrunching her face and inspecting the elf. “How are your ears so long? My husband’s ears aren’t as long, and he literally got to choose the length.”

  Jear snorted. “I’ll choose to ignore your question on the basis of rudeness and reiterate my question: you know my husband’s name?”

  Annie had her arms crossed but chose to wave the woman off regardless. “Tannins are what leaches into water and turns ponds and streams brown.” Her father gave her a strange look. “What? Mom bought me an aquarium when I was fourteen. Every time I did a water change; I had to throw in some new leaf litter so the water would turn back to brown. It was neat.”

  She then turned back to Jear. “And I would very much like an answer to my question. If that dull brewer goddess shorted my Vladdy on super long ears then—”

  The consort held up a hand. “Your irritation is misplaced by your own ignorance. I am not an elf, but a high elf. There is a difference.”

  Annie blinked twice. “Is the only difference that your kind has longer ears?”

  Jear recoiled, opened her mouth to say something poshly snarky, but snapped it closed. After a moment of contemplation, she said, “We high elf are also taller than the average elf.”

  “Could have fooled me,” Annie mumbled.

  Luka forced himself not to chuckle. Jear was indeed short, very short, in fact. For the unusually tall, slender, and lanky elf, Jear hardly rose up to their shoulders. And yet, what she was missing in height, she made up in pure swagger—well, as much as a woman who rarely left her tree could.

  She stood poised, her ears twitching from irritation and amusement. Framed in a bask of light and forest wind, she tapped her foot impatiently, showing off boots made of dazzling enchanted leather. Trailing up were embroidered leggings made of spider silk and woven life, and a sun dress made of dyed fabric. She glowed a gentle green, but at any moment that “gentleness” could ignite into unbounded terror.

  She held power and age unlike any other alive, and Luka and Annie knew it. They had met enough people like her to recognize the signs.

  With golden hair bound tightly in a ponytail, carved sticks and flowers meandered between her scalp and the open air, shifting as she did. They were accessories, a living breed no doubt enchanted by the best artisans this world had ever seen. They were historic, they were beautiful, and they left a lingering hint of divinity.

  Artifacts—plural—Luka recognized while idly rolling his own artifact ring along his finger.

  “Okay, okay,” he said placidly. “Before we say something we all regret, let’s take a step back.” Luka placed his hand on his chest. “I’m Luka, this is Annie. Nice to meet you.”

  The high elf looked as if she was chewing on a marble. Eventually she said, “Hi. I am Jear.”

  With everyone’s second introductions out of the way, it was time for business. “What’s up with your husband? I’m not sure I understood.”

  Jear held up a normal looking acorn. “Every so often Tannin looks to expand his influence and grow a sapling, so he’ll send me away whenever he thinks I need a vacation to ‘get a lay of the land’ for him.” She snorted. “Honestly, he uses it as an excuse to get some alone time.”

  Annie stared flatly. “He’s a tree.”

  “The tree.”

  “You married a tree?”

  “Annie,” Luka coughed, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s not be so judgmental, yeah? You’re married to a man who was once a human and is now an elf, so.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Jear smirked a little and said, “Some might call you racist for that, by the way.”

  Annie considered that, her eyes going a little wide. “Oh my god.”

  Luka gave the high elf a frown. “Let’s hold off on the mocking until we know each other a bit better, okay? For both of you.”

  The two ladies gave limp shrugs.

  “You two are going to become best friends,” he muttered, “I can sense it.”

  Annie and Jear regarded each other for a second before each turned their noses up at one another. “Not someone with her fashion sense.” “I don’t ‘befriend’ the classless.” They spoke at the same time.

  They both recoiled from each other’s words before speaking over one another again. “I’m as classy as they come!” “I’ve lived through more eras of fashion than you have hairs on your head!”

  Luka clapped his hands hard like he was breaking two yorkies from a barking loop. “Okay! Stop it! You two can take each other shopping later or whatever! Right now, we need to talk about Tannin growing a sapling here.”

  Jear glared at Annie before turning to Luka. “There is nothing to discuss. The World Tree gets whatever he wants. He wants his spawn to grow here, so it will.”

  The forest shuffled as if a wind rolled through.

  She then amended her statement by saying, “He says to tell you ‘it will be a good thing for the park, trust me.’”

  Annie leaned over to her father and whispered, “Yeah, Dad, trust the godly tree. He surely isn’t a delusion of this—”

  “Alright, that’s enough,” he snapped, his tone sharp. Annie responded by giving Jear a long, mocking smile, just daring her to respond.

  The high elf, to her credit, did not take the bait. She, instead, looked at the ground and muttered, “Please don’t grow here. These people are deforesters!”

  Another short breeze heralded through the forest.

  “But just look—”

  Another breeze.

  “How—”

  Another.

  “Fine!” Jear yelled, her eyes glowing green with mystic magic. “I just think I should get a choice in where my child grows!”

  Anne and Luka shared a glance. The sapling was Jear’s child with a god-tree-thing?

  A soothing wind brushed through the canopy, one that seemed to cup Jear’s cheek and kiss her on the forehead. Her frustrations melted away and her hardened face turned to acceptance. She looked pitifully at the ground, nodding at whatever Tannin had said.

  Luka cleared his throat. “I, uh, too think Jear should get a say in where your child grows.” The high elf slowly looked up. “And if she doesn’t want, uh, it to grow here, then I think you two need to have a long conversation.”

  Annie adopted a guilty face. “I agree. Kinda messed up Tannin.” She felt ridiculous speaking at the open air, but as a mother herself, she understood the situation well enough.

  Jear looked between the father and daughter duo before her lips sprouted like a blooming daisy. “Thank you,” she mumbled. “But I think we just fell victim to Tannin’s trap.”

  “What?” Luka asked.

  “He’s old and watches over all life on this world. He knows how to manipulate us mortals.” Jear patted the ground softly, lovingly, even. “He wouldn’t actually force me to plant our child here if I didn’t want to. But he said I had to so you two would agree with me, thus uniting us.”

  “Breaking the ice,” Annie said, nodding sagely. She may have stomped the ground a little. “Smart, but rude.”

  A calming breeze rolled in, one that was apologetic but happy.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jear replied. “You’re still in the doghouse.” A tinge of magic pulsed from her feet and into the loose soil. A hole about the width of a mug of ale ripped deep into the earth. “But a loving doghouse,” she said, holding the acorn out. She let go, and it fell into the hole.

  Annie and Luka blinked, realization slowly coming over them.

  “Um, so, uh,” he cleared his throat. “What exactly is going to happen now?”

  “When the acorn reaches the bottom in a few minutes, it will grow,” Jear said with a hint of annoyance. She swallowed down the emotion before adding, “And the park will have a fledgling world tree.”

  Annie peered at the hole. “Just how deep is that hole?

  “To the center.”

  “Oh. Right.” She went pale.

  Luka looked around expecting to find a god or goddess ready to intervene, but none showed up. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved at that or not. On the one hand, if they did show up, they’d stop whatever this was from happening. On the other, if they didn’t show up, this likely was okay for the park.

  “What about a hotel?” Luka asked. “We still need to build one for you and the other arriving VIPs.”

  Jear shook her head. “Our child will handle the hotel. Tannin and I will direct him or her to a suitable interior design and you two will assist with the finer details.”

  “Just how big of a base will your child have?”

  The consort shrugged. “You will have to build the park around him or her.”

  Annie ignored the outlandish statement and whispered to her father. “Do trees have genders?”

  Luka looked down at her softly. “It’s a world tree. I think it can be whatever it wants to be.”

  She considered this for a moment before impishly looking at Jear. “Should I put together a baby shower?”

  The high elf scoffed. “You’re late. I had one seventeen centuries ago for our child.”

  “Oh.” Annie wiggled her toes out of the dirt her magic sunk her into. “What about a birthday party?”

  Jear went to respond but then thought about the question. “Huh. I guess you should—” She stopped cold, glanced at the hole, and said, “Baby’s finally here! Come to Mama!”

  The ground split in two.

  And a second world tree was born.