He felt confortable, warm. If he could ever remember it, he would have thought he was back inside his mother’s womb. Or perhaps like he was a baby again, nursed in her arms. He tried to snug a little to have a feel of his arms and legs, only to notice he couldn’t.

What a second ago was warmth and cozyness, in an instant became fear and anxiety. His breath accelerated, as well as his mind. The terror of last night came rushing back. A shadowy creature slashing through the Brotherhood’s camp, cutting down his friends and the people who had embraced him and given him a forge and a place in the world again. He opened his eyes, only to see darkness. It felt like he had not opened his eyes, so dark it was. He flexed his strong arms and pushed against the walls that held him. They were made of wood, all around him and all the way up. Was he inside a tree? How did he ended up in there? Perhaps it was a curse from the creature who attacked him? Was it eating his strength away? He felt weakened, and so he saw despair crippling under his skin like vermin. It was enough to make his blood boil and his rage erupted like a thunder.

His Goliath arms, large as growing trees, touched the wooden wall in front of him and he started pushing and punching and his legs kicking and pushing while he was grunting and shouting in his deep, scratchy voice. The tree was thick, as if it were centuries old. Even so, it started cracking and soon collapsed, for such was the power of Akan’s rage. He pushed through, breaking the thick wooden walls, feeling the night air rush in and touch his chest and his face.

He fell on his knees, calming down and recovering his breath. The night breeze cooled his rage and he lied down on the grassy floor, looking up to the tree he had just broken out of. No stars nor moon in sight. Some dim yellow glow illuminated the forest ceiling. It trembled as if it came from a not so far away fire. Akan closed his eyes and thought he could hear it crackling somewhere. His breath came down to normal again, and he could now feel the smell of flowers and growing trees. It was almost as if there wasn’t death and blood around him, as if the slaughter of his brothers and sisters were only a distant memory, or perhaps a bad dream. He fell asleep with those thoughts, and dreamt of the mountain winds and hunts in fresh morning snow.

He woke up to the murmurs of prayer, the likes of those he had heard Osmond and his friends pray so many times before. He opened his eyes in hope that everything had actually been a nightmare. Only he saw a giant turtle standing in two legs, crushing some leaves and chanting words softly.

– If only I could find some Night Flowers around here… – said the turtle in a calm, soft voice. Akan sat down as quickly as his aching muscles allowed him. It was more surprise than scare that drove his reaction.

– Ah, good. You are awake. Good morning, tree-born giant. I have never seen one of your kind before. How are you feeling? – the turtle was huge for a turtle, but still small compared to the Goliath. He did not have a single drop of menace in his comforting voice. Akan had no reason to feel threatened.

– Who… WHAT are you? – was all he managed to ask while his eyes still adjusted to the morning light and drank in the surroundings.

– I am Tamar, one of the wandering tortles, keeper of the forests. Nice to meet you. I have a few questions if you feel like talking. Here, eat this. And drink this. It will make you feel better.

Akan took a fruit and a small bow filled with a hot mix of plants. It smelled a little funny, but not bad. A small bite and a small sip revealed no danger. In matter of fact, the fruit tasted amazing and gave him a feeling of strength again. As he quickly finished the meal, he went to take the bowl back with his left hand only to realize it wasn’t there. All there was was short stump below his elbow, scarred, but fully healed. His mind flashed scenes of the slaughter and that bright morning was painted in black and blood for a second. He frowned and sunk in his grief, ignoring Tamar’s invitation for a chat.

Suddenly, something clicked. Where were the vestiges of the fight? Where were the tents and corpses of his friends? The forest would surely consume it all in time, but never overnight! Akan jumped up and started looking around for signs of it all. He even let some questions escape his thoughts: “where is the carts and the tents? Where is everyone?”

– Everyone? Who are you talking about, Mr. Tree-born? There is no one around these forests but me and the animals and the plants. Certainly no one of your kind… – Tamar cut through his thoughts.

– What are you talking about? There were tents, and fires and two carts, and pigs and cows around here. All my friends lived here and I with them, for years! My anvil was… right… there… – Akan’s voice faded as he approached a particularly big tree by the mountain edge of the forest, where a steep rocky slope began. He raised his head and looked around. It didn’t make any sense. His mountain was still there, high as always. Everything else was different, though. There were no traces of the fight – if you would be so daring to call the attack a fight -, nor of the Brotherhood’s settlement. Only trees and bushes and leaves. In the distance, he saw white walls circling what looked like numerous houses mashed together for the rest of the horizon, until his eyes could see. That was never there, and couldn’t have been built over night. His surprise blurted out as a question – What is that?!?!

– That is Waterdeep City. I am sure you know of it. It is one of the major human cities there are. It has been there for centuries, my friend. – Tamar’s explanation followed in his usual slow and calming tone.

– Centuries?! What are you talking about?! That thing wasn’t there yesterday and I’ll be damned if there are that many humans in one place!

All Tamar left out was a long “hummm” while he brought his hand to his chin as he reflected on their conversation. After a few moments he said: “Perhaps you have been in that tree for more nights than you think, hun? Come, walk with me…”

They approached the tree from where Akan had broken free last night. The tortle picked up some of the pieces and kneeled next to the hole in the trunk. He explained how those rings tell the age of a tree and showed how many rings it had: hundreds beyond count. It didn’t make sense to Akan. And so he thought of looking for some of that. His cave where he hid his most praised belongings should still hold, even if there were years since he last visited it. “You follow me this time, Mr. Turtle”.