The Forest For the Trees
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Geography in the forest being as completely odd as it was, Seed occasionally got the impression that there were multiple Old Oaks, all of which were the same Oak. Certainly, this one was closer than the one near the lake he had set out from. But perhaps he was just tired, with his back smarting in little bright specks of pain from the drops of ash. He walked towards her with his head low.
”What was that?” “What was that?” “…That. Was…”

“Pathetic,” Seed finished for them. He had sort of been hoping that in a moment when his mettle was tested, he’d have fared…Just a bit better. Maybe not immediately turned tail and ran. Maybe been a bit useful.
Not a lot.
Just a little.
But as it stood, Seed simply walked back the rest of the way, surrounded by whispers that made the forest look like a silent storm was passing. Seed thought he would have preferred it if they sounded disappointed, and not terrified.

At last, he reached the oak, and stopped to rest in the hollow of her heart. It was an eternal question of the forest, how a tree so hollow was still alive. The answer, as far as Seed followed was… Screw your logic, it’s magic. That sort of answer was vaguely disappointing to Seed. The tree shook her unseen branches when he approached.
”C’mere, Honey…I bet those burns hurt someone as tender as you a whole bundle, huh?” Her voice was gentle, and it wrapped Seed in a warm and swaddled feeling. Like a grandparent. ”Just rest on my side.”
”I…I’m fine.” Seed didn’t protest the command, and leaned the burns – wincing a bit – against the Old Oak. Something like sap seeped from the bark onto him, little drops of amber-colored cool. He sighed.

”Whose idea was this, huh? Who said ‘Oh, it’s only a giant beetle made of fire twice his side, let’s send this poor little thing’ – with all our instincts about why fire is terrible, I should add ‘to go fight him’?” In the wake of her speech, the forest was suddenly still. If they were deer, they’d have been looking away and fidgeting their hooves.

”…Perhaps we may have…Acted hastily.” “Acted hastily.” “Perhaps.”
”…Don’t blame them, please. I…I should have done better.” From within the comforting feeling of the cool sap and the shameful feeling of loss, Seed could only reach for that fact.
”What will we do?” The trees passed the phrase back and forth, tasting the despair. ”Find another?” “Another?” “Another…”
The rustling pulled away.
”That’s good. I’m glad.”

”You think they’ll find someone?”
”Oh, surely there must be some sort of half-dryad-half-demon that shapeshifts into a deer somewhere in the forest…Right? Someone…Well, I guess someone of the sort you get more and more these days: the indomitable hero. The person born for war.” He was smiling as he said this, but the fact was…It seemed so hopeless. ”The forest’s grown. That’s…That’s what this world needs, I suppose.”

”You think? I’ve been in this world a long time, and I’ll tell you what, no one knows what something really needs when you see it from one angle.” The old oak rustled her branches emphatically. The branches she kept hidden from anyone not craning their necks to see the vault of heaven – Seed, listening to them now, only had the vaguest idea of their formation, their shape… Maybe, as he considered her words, he could never really understand her, because of that.

”That sort of person…Can be really amazing. I’m sure they’ll be able to accomplish things an old relic like me can’t. Pht.” He scratched his hoof at the ground, pounding it at emphatic points. ”So simple. So naïve and childish and simplistic, me. There’s nothing…Nothing real in silly little games. The sort of person who transcends that can handle the problems and conflicts that will always exist. That’s what I think.” Onto the words he wrote with his hoof fell little drops of tears, turning pictograms to mud. ”They’ll do what I can’t. For…For everyone.”

”I’m not really sure who this ‘They’ is, honey. But I know the type. Some are mighty fine, but…A lot of that type, I find a little bit dull.” She laughed, but it turned into a sigh. Defusing Seed's mood with that: a rather big failure, since she couldn't put up a fight. ”But that’s what we of the forest have got to rely on…I just hope…That this half-dryad of yours is a good guy. There are a lotta deer who’d just let this world burn.”

The Oak let the wind play a soft soughing in her branches.
”Surely…Surely they will…”
”You can’t say that for sure…After all, most of you…Can run away. When this place gets devoured, there’s a new green forest to find. A million world’s worth. It won’t affect them at all, right? Just us…”
Seed pictured what she meant as she said this. Yes, most deer he knew could – and would – travel. With perhaps one exception, he knew that all the deer he cared about could leave (and that last one, he just wasn’t sure about; it wasn’t wrong) – they’d be safe, no matter what. They’d not have to feel the dark magic in that monster’s flaming eyes…
”There’s no one that’ll fight for this place. And I bet there’s no one we can ask but you…Maybe that Pent fellow, but…No more. But if we’re lucky, it’ll never matter that we existed; that’ll be our gift to them.” Later, Seed would wonder if the Old Oak was egging him on.

But all he knew in that moment was the knife of her statement. Because he could not leave. And if the forest didn’t matter, then how could he?
…He didn’t matter. The times he had shared with all his friends, his family, his loved ones – his mate and his wife and his brother and his daughter – were all going to not matter. And have never mattered, anymore.
Scattered, like ash in the wind.

”…I…I can’t…I can’t let that happen.” He muttered, into nothing. He couldn’t. Even if he died, he…He wanted to matter. He wanted to be acknowledged, to be someone worth mattering – he’d pursued that in the past, and had never managed to keep up with the world… It seemed so easy to admit now that he really didn’t matter, that he couldn’t matter. It was what part of him wanted to say.

But he couldn’t let those memories down.

He rose.
”Honey? Sugar? What are you doing?”
”I-I’ll do it. I’ll try again. For real this time.” His voice choked; to his surprise, tears were streaming down his face. ”I…I need to…I won’t let the home of these memories be destroyed like that. Even if it’s just to stall…”
”Are you insane? Haven’t we covered this? You’re a poet, not a fighter! A spoony bard, extra spoony!...Honey. Please. Don’t let yourself get hurt.”

Seed looked up at her, glaring through his tears.
”If fighting’s the only way to be useful, then at least let me try to have a use!”

Silence reigned. Eventually, a sheet of green leaves floated down onto Seed’s back, falling around him like a cape. The leaves were broad and waxy, dark green and full of moisture. They seemed to stick together, forming a sort of fabric of leaves. His expression softened.
”If you mean that…Take this. It’ll help keep you safe. And…Dip your antlers in this. It’ll make them strong.”
At her roots, a pool of sap formed. Seed did as she commanded, wiping the flowers off his antlers. He didn’t feel the difference, but he believed.

”Thank you. I’ll just try and stall, and do my best.”
”…Don’t do anything foolish. Well, that’s what I’d say if you weren’t already being foolish.”
He laughed, in a sad and lonely sort of way.
”I love my home, Mother Oak. And love sometimes demands foolishness…” He hoped that sounded brave. Inside, his heart was trembling – he felt like a leaf in a storm.

He was as ready as he’d ever be, with those gifts at his ready. He set off, deeper and deeper into the woods.
”…Is this…Really what you think matters?” The oak asked, though it was clear no one could hear her.

With the fear of blood pounding in his ears so loud, Seed barely heard the sound of his own flesh scraping against things, the fear so great he barely felt the cuts that trickled as he wandered through the undergrowth. He didn’t even notice, but that fear took his safety away.
He didn’t have long to go until he’d see the heat, shimmering in the air.