How odd. She's never met a curious tree before. Does it grow, if she instructs it to?

It would really like to grow.

It starts to grow. 

It also starts reaching out, trying to examine her.

She is quite extensive. She directs a thought its way.

Can you hear me?

Hear.

What are you?

A goddess.

Am I a goddess?

Is that a goddess? 

'That', evidently, refers to her acolyte. 

You are a tree. If you are a god, you are a very small one.

That is mine.

What is a god?

I have been gone for so long.

Where did they go? 

"It's...it's really growing back..."

Ellayania tries to send the entire concept of god, wordless.

Pascale smiles.

I am not a god.

I need your help. 

Help with what?

They all left.

I was gone, so they left, but I am here now. 

The druids? They are here, now.

Not them. These are only short ones, anyway.

Their creations. The beast-folk and the flesh-eaters, the hell-hounds, the bone-wearers.

The others, the foxes and the singers. It is too quiet here. 

As if in response, a woman's scream cuts through the rest of the noise.

Prolific, were they.

Tell me more about them.

"What was that?"

"Probably Lydia. I suppose we shouldn't be surprised the banshee felt what you did. Powerful magic gets their attention." 

"Does that mean what I think it does?"

"I was really hoping this would make the town safer." 

The beast-folk change their shape. They carry the beast inside, and it pushes them to do its will.

The flesh-eaters have a ceaseless craving. They kill anything they find for food.

The hell-hounds refuse to let death take them or others. I hope we find one soon.

The bone-wearers are trapped with the spirits. We should not discuss sad things.

The singer is here already, and the fox has woken up. 

"Will she be coming here, or ought I go round her up?"

Werewolves, wendigos, apparently banshee, and three unknowns. It would be nice if the druids had volunteered some information about this before it became pressingly relevant.

Can you call them here, to me?