Thalen Greenleaf's Arc

Chapter 1 of 5

The heartwood tree was gone, and Thalen Greenleaf stood in the pit where its roots had been. For a thousand years the tree had held his clan's memory in its living wood. Now the ground gaped raw and empty. His people wept behind him. Thalen did not weep. He knelt and pressed his palm to the torn earth, searching for any sign of who had done this. He found none. No tracks. No broken branches. Nothing to chase. The thieves had come in the night and left no trail. Without a trail, Thalen could not follow. Without following, he could not bring the tree home. He circled the pit twice, his forest-green tunic dragging through mud. The soil told him nothing. Whoever took the tree knew how to erase their steps. He returned to his home as dusk fell. His shelter was woven from broad overlapping leaves, and inside hung a lantern wrapped in moss, its light soft and gold. Thalen sat beneath it and stared at his empty hands. His grandmother had planted the heartwood. His grandmother's grandmother had sung to it. He had promised the clan he would find it. He had no way to keep that promise. A sound pulled him up. Something tapped against the leaves of his shelter. He stepped outside. A dragonfly hovered before him, its wings shining with every color at once, red bleeding into violet, its body slick and bright. It darted close, then away, then close again. Thalen had never seen such a creature. It flew as if it wanted him to follow. He reached for it. The dragonfly dropped something into the mud at his feet. Thalen crouched and picked it up. A single splinter of wood, pale and warm in his fingers. He knew that grain. He knew that smell. It was heartwood. The splinter had fallen from something carried past this spot. The thieves had come this way. The dragonfly circled once more and shot toward the dark line of the trees, then paused, waiting. Thalen stood. His hands were no longer empty. He went inside and took the moss-wrapped lantern from its hook. He tucked the splinter into his tunic, against his chest. When he stepped out again, the dragonfly still hovered at the tree line, its colors bright against the dark. It had shown him the direction. Now he had a trail, and a guide who knew where the trail led. "Show me," Thalen said. The dragonfly flew. Thalen followed, the lantern swinging in his fist, the splinter warm over his heart. The chase had begun.