A hollow tree stump large enough to fit a grown person stood at the edge of the clearing. Aspen patiently waited for Clover to finish changing with his back against the bark.

He saw a couple druids heading out into the wild. A few of them waved at him on their way out.

“Are you sure these are all the bits…?” Clover’s incredulous query came from within the ad hoc changing room.

Aspen nodded. “Yes, the kaftan, the conical hat, and optionally the slippers.”

With a muffled sigh, Clover emerged from the wooden cavity dressed in green from head to toe. The robes were thick but not heavy – they were soft but most unusually appeared to stay put in whatever way Clover tucked them.

Clover liked the hat, but the slippers seemed like a ridiculous choice for trekking through the woods.

Aspen gave her a brief once-over and nodded in satisfaction. “How do you like it?”

“I don’t know…” Clover hesitated, “I don’t hate the colour… and it feels comfortable…” Her brows furrowed restlessly. “It's just that… It just kind of stays in place… and I don’t necessarily trust it to do that…”

“Also, it smells like cut grass…” she added.

“You must have faith in the kingdom of nature,” the elf lectured her through an amused smile. “It is not like the fear-driven circus of man.”

“Trust your robes as you would your hands,” he advised her and gently patted her on the shoulder.

Clover nodded with tentative trust. “And the smell?”

Aspen shrugged gently. “You’ll learn to tune it out.”

When the elf began to walk, Clover assumed she should keep following him. “Where are we going now?” she asked.

“I want to introduce you to the other newcomer; his name is Basil,” Aspen answered.

“I have been tutoring him for several months now,” he explained before pausing briefly. “That’s not to say he’s far ahead of you,” he assured.

Clover nodded; she would gladly take a peer in this strange new world - whoever they may be.

“He should be back from his training now,” Aspen continued and led Clover towards the henge where all the other druids congregated.

Inside it didn’t look so much like a secret clubhouse as it did a breakroom in the woods.

Variously sized tree stumps generously cushioned with lobes of moss served as seats around the bisected logs functioning as tables.

The air was pleasantly cool, and the smell was a mix of herbal, floral, and rooty notes that confused Clover’s uncultured nose but was nothing compared to the fumes she endured at the alchemists’ guild.

Bioluminescent plants and fungi adorned the walls, providing moody lighting that gradually shifted throughout the course of the day as the populous picky eaters starved their green glow, giving way to the warm hues of their more gluttonous but less numerous competitors.

There was a small buffet actively grazed by a dwarf and a frogman druid respectively.

Despite the beautifully colourful spread - upon closer inspection - Clover was only able to make out raw produce unfit for her spoiled palate.

Elsewhere she saw a lonesome beetle rolling a ball of forest litter outside; she was relieved when she remembered that she couldn’t ever accidentally squish it.

The floor was cultivated mossy lawn. There was a visible bump in the thickness of the moss around the buffet where constant drops and spills fattened it up.

Aspen approached a human druid lounging at one of the tables with an assorted platter of colourful fungi. “Heather, do you know if Basil is back yet?”

Heather, the human druid with a head of mahogany hair - which she decided was less important to showcase than her enormous forehead – fixed Aspen with a familiar smile before being distracted by his new acquaintance.

Heather’s eyes lit up with excitement as she slinked off her seat and reached a hand out to greet Clover, “Hello there, you look new!”

“Oh, um, hello…!” Clover croaked out awkwardly before hesitantly shaking her hand out of politeness, “I am… Thank you for noticing…"

“Yes, Clover is a new druid,” Aspen interjected fecklessly. “I was hoping to introduce her to Basil.”

Heather shook her head. “I haven’t seen Basil since this morning,” she sighed. “You don’t suppose he’s stuck again…?”

For a moment the elf was quiet, but it felt like a sigh no matter how hard he tried to mask it. “Perhaps,” he muttered tightly.

“Is everything okay?” Clover asked, sensing Aspen’s frustration.

The elf nodded, “Of course.” As he spoke, any trace of negative emotion faded, leaving a placid canvas, which soon depicted a temperate smile.

“Let’s go find your training partner,” he said and began to walk off, leaving Clover to recite a hurried goodbye to Heather before catching up with the druid.

“Do you know where he is?”

Aspen nodded, “Basil has trouble with certain aspects of being a druid – everyone does,” he explained. “Basil’s often leaves him in a rather precarious position.”

“For that reason, I asked him to practice in a designated spot in the forest.”

Clover nodded – not really understanding much of what he said.

When Aspen led her into the bushes encircling the clearing, she closed her eyes and held her breath as if she was going underwater.

She emerged in a lush wood – entirely unscratched and unscathed from her trip.

After quickly catching her breath, Clover spotted her ever-moving mentor and hurriedly caught up to him.

As they walked in silence, Clover entirely forgot about her surreptitiously functional slippers.

This deep in the forest there was no longer a sky – only the rustling of deciduous leaves gorging themselves on all of the light while leaving nothing for the underbrush.

Where competitive photosynthesis failed, the temperate mosses and easy fungi thrived in wet, amorphic reefs tended to by crab-sized arthropods. The snail-brown bugs navigated the damp environment in a single-minded crawl towards potential food.

Just as Clover began to get comfortable with the small crawly parts of her new job, she heard a loud, avian roar. The cry was powerful enough to shuffle the freshly fallen forest litter.

Both druids turned towards the source – one considerably faster than the other.

“Stay calm,” Aspen instructed her. “While birds are not part of the kingdom of nature, this one is a resident of her kingdom and is hence subject to her law.”

Out from the overgrowth stalked a feathered biped taller than Clover but not quite as tall as the elf.

It was green save for its four wrinkled talons and its beak - both of which were black. Its whole coat blended dangerously well with its surroundings.

It cautiously waltzed up to the druids. It walked past Aspen as though he wasn’t there before getting a good look at Clover.

“H-Hello…” She hesitated and took a step back. This seemed to greatly amuse the bird, as it produced a guttural clicking sound that Clover’s mind approximated to a smug purr.

A reproachful look from Aspen set the birds’ forest-green feathers upright as it grudgingly strutted off behind the safety of another bush.

Aspen looked at Clover disapprovingly. “You cannot fear those that you are supposed to serve,” he corrected her.

Clover nodded apologetically. “I know, I’m sorry…” She hung her head sullenly. “I just got… scared… a bit…”

“You have nothing to be afraid of. You are a druid, Clover.”

She nodded once more. “So… it couldn’t have… like… mauled me with its massive beak even if it wanted to?” Clover asked timorously.

Aspen’s expression remained reassuring, but the delay with which he answered was disheartening: “Not without instant retribution.”

The elf’s expression darkened slightly. “No land, nor sea, nor single mote of dust in this world would be safe from nature’s wrath.”

Clover felt a chill race down her spine at his grave promise. “I see…” she breathed uncertainly.

They resumed walking through the dark forest.

“So… what should I do if I tell it to back off and it doesn’t?” she asked.

“It depends,” Aspen answered, leading Clover through a fallen trunk that was rotted from the inside, leaving only a bark tunnel.

Aspen’s voice echoed off the mouldy bark. “Ordinarily, your pride is not any of nature’s concern unless you are in some way harmed,” he said, and Clover nodded.

Clover ducked her head beneath the hanging foliage briefly before straightening back up when she saw Aspen look over his shoulder. “In other words, you should either ignore him or leave,” he answered.

“But, if they were to impede your work as a druid, then you have to give them a warning and a chance to get out of your way.”

“Then - if still necessary - you must cull them.”

Clover swallowed thickly. “Cull them…? As in… kill them?”

“Those who stand in the way of us druids cause grievous harm to the kingdom of nature,” he maintained firmly.

Seeing Clover’s wide-eyed expression, his face immediately softened. “Most of the time, however, we cull life to prevent needless pain and cruelty.”

They emerged from the wooden tunnel and entered a small gravel-carpeted clearing dotted with crystalline ponds fed by underground springs.

A small grey fish sulked and aimlessly drifted from one edge of the pool to the other.

Aspen patted a heavily eroded stone smooth enough to convince Clover that it might be comfortable. “I’ll go get Basil; you can have a short rest.”

Clover nodded wordlessly and went on to watch the elf swiftly snatch inconspicuous fish from the chilly pond.

He didn’t bother rolling up his sleeves, as the water beaded up and rolled right off the spring-green fabric.

The fish flailed in his grasp. “Stop struggling,” Aspen commanded wearily.

“Good, now I’ll let you catch your breath, and then you have to turn back into a fishman,” the elf said, to which the fish gulped in compliance.

After a brief dip in the cool mountain water, the fishman was carefully placed on a flat, dry rock.

He began to wriggle jerkily.

“Fishmen don’t wriggle; you move with articulated limbs,” Aspen corrected the transformed Basil firmly.

The fish gulped as if to nod.

Basil struggled for a while longer.

“Maybe you should wet him again?” Clover suggested anxiously, but Aspen simply shook his head.

Basil closed his eyes, feeling a burning mix of frustration and humiliation at his utter failure. He went to slap himself when he felt his humanoid wrist get firmly snatched by the elf.

“You got there when you closed your eyes,” Aspen sighed exasperatedly and released the freezing fishman from his grasp.

“Sorry… I tried…” he mumbled miserably.

Aspen nodded in that mercifully quiet way before he directed Basil’s attention to his new colleague.

“This is Clover; she is going to be your training partner for the next while.”

The fishman regarded the pale-blond-haired druid perched on her rain-polished stone stool. “Hey,” she greeted him with a sympathetic smile, “I’m Clover – like he said.”

Basil smiled back at her – trying to shove all his previous embarrassment behind him. “My name is Basil; it’s nice to know I won’t be the only new druid in training.” He sounded really relieved.

Clover nodded. “The feeling’s mutual,” she grimaced.