Wisteria

Wisteria

Kelly Webber

Wild Ink Publishing

Copyright © 2024 Kelly Webber

A Wild Ink Publishing Original

Wild Ink Publishing

wild-ink-publishing.com

Copyright © 2024 by Kelly Webber

All rights reserved.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-958531-51-8

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-958531-52-5

Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.

This book would not be possible without the work of  Ian Tan, Emily St. Marie, and Abigail Wild.  Thank you for all you’ve done to bring Wisteria to life.

Wisteria

by Kelly Webber

Copyright

A Wild Ink Publishing Original

Wild Ink Publishing

wild-ink-publishing.com

Copyright © 2024 by Kelly Webber

All rights reserved.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-958531-51-8

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-958531-52-5

Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.

Prologue

The Wisteria tree stood tall at the heart of the Northern Forest, towering high above the ferns and shrubs and woodland critters. Long vines draped down from it, some striped with sunlight, others weaving through neighboring trees like snakes interlacing with nearby branches. Ayanna the druid admired the flowers adorning each vine; the blossoms glimmered a soft hue of purple that never failed to remind her of the sky just before sunset. Around her loomed a backdrop of mossy browns and speckled greens that contrasted the stark purple.  

Ayanna dug her bare feet into the rich soil. She wondered how deep the intricate root system of the Wisteria tree ventured into the earth. Could it possibly extend as far below as its branches reached above?  

No matter how far she traveled throughout the great Northern Forest, Wisteria’s vines were always there to lead her through the maze of oak and maple trees back here to its trunk.  She grasped onto the light brown bark and hauled herself up, hugging Wisteria like an old friend. She maneuvered quickly and gracefully, careful not to damage any of the delicate drooping petals. 

Her friend Zephyr struggled to hoist himself onto the branch beside her. He brushed dark curls away from his gray eyes and round nose. You druids climb so fast, he panted. Ayanna had to grin. He could run circles around her, but his human arms were unable to keep up while climbing. After Zephyr had been orphaned in the Northern Forest as a baby, the herd of Deer Folk took him in and raised him as their own. He ate nuts and acorns like them and ran in a wonky canter. 

Ayanna laughed, watching him finally clamber onto the branch. Climbing every day should make you an honorary druid at this point. Come on, race me to the top! 

She gripped a vine and swung herself through the labyrinth of twisted branches. After several successful swings, she heard the snap, just before a branch gave way above her, and she plunged straight down. The wind whipped her hair up and her arms flailed about. A human might be afraid to fall aimlessly from the tallest tree in the forest, but Ayanna could only feel a warm cushioning sensation below her as vines rushed to her side. Two squirrels watched the debacle in amusement, but she clambered onward shamelessly. The robins cheered her on when she passed by, but a loud caw cut in from the distance, shrill and piercing. Another caw burst overhead beyond the branches. 

Someone was shouting far away. To the swamp… to the swamp… 

Ayanna pressed on. After just a few more branches she emerged from the canopy, finally catching sight of the expansive blue world hidden behind Wisteria’s branches. The sky was clear save for a few pale clouds and a legion of crows soaring overhead in V-formation. Ayanna craned her neck backward to see the great feathered beasts weaving in and out of the misty clouds. She counted them: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. 

To the swamp! the leader screeched. The great witch awaits! 

Zephyr, come look! Ayanna exclaimed. The Swamp Witch’s crows are passing by! 

On cue, Zephyr’s head popped out of the purple flowers. He panted in exasperation before gathering enough breath to speak. Remember the stories of the Swamp Witch who ate children who don’t listen? The elder deer always say that means the crows will come for us first! 

She rolled her eyes.  

Don’t tell me you believe those old deer tales. 

Zephyr flinched at Ayanna’s mockery. Old deer tales? I thought you loved their stories! 

Sure, they’re fun, but I think the elders are just trying to scare us. When is the last time you ever heard of the Swamp Witch using her magic maliciously? The crows only tell of her psychic power and visions of the future. 

Yes, but remember, the crows migrate north to draw from Wisteria’s power. The witch has eyes everywhere, so you wouldn’t want to be on her bad side. His voice dropped to a whisper. She might even know how to take someone’s magic away. 

Oh, Nature forbid! Ayanna hugged the formidable trunk and felt its power surge through her. Surely the Witch wouldn’t ever toss her away from Wisteria? Or, worse, eliminate all druidic magic completely? No, surely, she could not do that. What would Wisteria be without its creatures, its druids?  

If Wisteria gives us our magic, then what gives Wisteria magic? she pondered. 

Zephyr merely shrugged. How should I know? I’m just a human. 

Ayanna threw up her hands. You’re the only human to ever live in the Northern Forest amongst the Deer Folk! They are known throughout the forest for telling tales of great journeys and magical quests. Surely, they’ve told you something! 

Sure, I’ve heard lots of stories about voyages across the sea and the spells of the Swamp Witch. 

Right, but I want to know what happened before all of that, the story that started it all! Where does magic come from, and how does it work? Did magic start in the forest, or did it come from somewhere else? If it started somewhere else, who brought it here? 

Zephyr shrugged. The Deer Folk say Oisín knows the story. His great-great-grandfather was there when the magic began. 

If Oisín knows the answers, then we must go to the clearing where the Deer Folk live and speak to him! 

I don’t want to go home yet, Zephyr groaned. We only just started climbing trees, and I’m having fun! Come on, we can swim in the lake next! 

For a fleeting moment, Ayanna reconsidered. Nothing gave her more joy than climbing a tree, especially the Wisteria tree. Something about its sturdy trunk and drooping flowers made her feel more at home than anywhere else. But why? What is it about this tree? 

We can climb trees or swim in the lake any day. That’s what we did yesterday, and tomorrow we’ll do it all over again. Today, I want to hear the story of magic! 

Let’s at least pick some berries before we go, Zephyr countered. That way we’ll have a snack while we listen, and Oisín is always in a much better mood when he has berries. 

Ayanna grinned. A hint of mischief glimmered in her green eyes. Alright, but you have to race me to the blueberry bush! 

She darted ahead, not waiting for Zephyr to decline her challenge. She bounded through the forest, hurtling over brambles and neatly dodging the cypress tree. Navigating the twists and turns of the forest path was no challenge to Ayanna or Zephyras they knew thetrails like the back of their hands. They spent day after day exploring every nook and cranny of the woods, always keeping an eye out for their next adventure. 

Ayanna arrived at the blueberry bush only moments before Zephyr came cantering behind her. 

Beat ya! she cheered. 

Zephyr panted and wiped a stain of sweat from his forehead. You didn’t give me much warning, he complained. I wasn’t ready. Now I’m nearly too tired to pick berries. 

Ayanna held out her hands. The berries floated off of the branches and into the air, navigating their way directly into her hands. 

Now we don’t have to. The tree picked them for us! 

Zephyr huffed. It must be easy, always using magic to get your way. 

Ayanna frowned, slightly offended. I told you, remember? It doesn’t feel like I always get my way. I can’t make the tree do whatever I want. 

Then how does it work again? 

It’s almost like I’m talking to the tree. I ask for a favor, and if the tree wants, he or she helps me. All of nature is alive, you know. 

You talk to nature?  

Yes, but I don’t have to use words. Just right now, I held out my hand to ask for berries, the same way I would ask you to share some with me if you had picked them. 

Zephyr held out his hand. Just as the tree passed the berries to Ayanna, she dropped a few into Zephyr’s palm. 

See? she said. We’re friends, so we share. The plants are my friends, and they help me. 

What if you weren’t friendly to the plants? 

Ayanna laughed. Then I imagine they wouldn’t treat me kindly either. 

Zephyr’s stomach rumbled. Oh, I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I smelled these berries! 

Let’s find Oisín before we eat any. We can share them while he tells us the story. 

Race ya, Zephyr said. Without waiting for Ayanna to agree, he sprinted into the woods. 

No fair, Ayanna yelled after him, running to catch up. She struggled to keep up with her friend, cautious to not drop the berries. She took a deep breath and concentrated, exhaling. Come on, wind, do your magic! When she leapt into the air, the wind rushed her forward, gliding her through the air like a soaring eagle. She sped through the maze of green leaves and purple flowers. Her feet landed in the clearing just as Zephyr’s did. 

We tied! she cheered. 

No fair, he complained. You caught a ride on the wind. And we still tied, which means I’m as fast as the wind! 

And I rode the wind without dropping a single berry! she boasted as she held out the handful of blueberries as proof. 

Did someone say berries? a voice mumbled in the distance. 

Oisín! Zephyr called.

Oisín wandered away from the rest of the herd to join them. How are you young’uns? he greeted them. Having a fun time in the forest? I remember those days, galloping through the woods as if nothing else in the world mattered. 

Ayanna extended a plump berry towards Oisín. We were actually hoping to share these with you. 

Oisín sniffed the berry excitedly. Well, I’ll be! It must be my lucky day. But surely you didn’t just stumble upon a bush of ripe blueberries and think of me. I reckon you came in search of a story. 

Yes, but we actually have a particular story in mind, Ayanna told him. 

Oisín accepted the berry, taking his time to chew. 

And which story would that be? A tale of pirates and sea monsters? Knights and dragons? 

No, we’ve heard all of those before. We want to know when magic came to the Northern Forest, Ayanna declared. 

And how! Zephyr added. 

​Oisín gazed into the distance. The Northern Forest was enchanted long before anyone can remember. 

​  But you know the story, don’t you? Ayanna persisted. 

​He nodded. My great-great-grandfather was there. He told the story to my grandfather, who told it to me when I was but a young fawn. 

​Do you remember it? asked Zephyr. 

​Oh, yes. I used to tell it to all the little deer and druids of the forest. He smiled at Zephyr. I don’t think I’ve ever told a human, so today is a special day. 

​Ayanna and Zephyr fidgeted in excitement. 

Come, sit down, said Oisín, tipping his antlers toward a mossy corner of the clearing. 

They each took a seat, getting comfortable and munching on berries. 

Oh, it’s been years since I’ve told this story. I’m afraid my memory isn’t what it used to be, Oisín lamented, but let me see what this old brain can dredge up. Hmm, where to begin? Witches and wizards or dragons and druids? I could start at the end and work my way back. No, that would be far too confusing. 

Why don’t you start at the beginning? Zephyr suggested. 

An excellent idea, Zephyr! Why, there’s no better place to start a story than at the beginning! 

The Deer and the Druid

Oisín cleared his throat and began his tale. "My great-great-grandfather’s name was Finnian… 

When Finnian was a young fawn, the Deer Folk of the Northern Forest were not talking animals like they are today. In those days, they grunted and whinnied like the deer from any other land in the realm. But even back then, a deer loved nothing more than a good snack. One day, Finnian diverted from the herd. He sniffed his way along the trail by the lake, where berries were said to grow ripe after winter’s last frost. Before he could find a berry bush, he heard footsteps rustling in the forest. 

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. 

His ears perked. That sound was not the normal gait of a deer’s hooves; these steps sounded like a creature walking on two feet! Back in those days, there were no druids in the forest, but there were a few human villages nearby. The humans would hunt the deer with their bows and arrows. Of course, nothing of the sort would happen today, as all creatures live together in harmony. 

But you must understand, these were vastly different times. 

Right after Finnian heard the human’s footsteps, he heard a little voice in his head. It was a warning that spurs all deer to run: Danger, danger! 

He sprinted away, as would any deer who came across a human in the woods. Even the best hunters couldn’t run as far or fast as the smallest fawn. You might look down on deer for always running, but we are the fastest creatures in the Northern Forest, maybe even in the entire realm. 

Now… berries? Where were those berries? Finnian sniffed the air, tracking the scent of