I don’t remember my name from before. I lived on a farm bordering on a large forest that my mom took me and my big brother for walks in. One day, I wandered off and lost myself in a labyrinth of tree giants.

A beautiful lady found me, her skin as white as the birch tree, her eyes as green as budding beech leaves, her hair a mix of brown, and yellows, and oranges, just like the forest floor. Until I was grown, I lived with her and learned everything she knew. She adorned my skin with symbols of power and taught me how to live off the land, never taking more than I needed.

When it was time to leave, she kissed me and said, “My sweet boy, go forth and teach humans how to honor their nature. And if they refuse to listen and learn, I want you to avenge Gaia so that we all can live in harmony. Our fate rests on yours and other foundlings’ shoulders.”

And that’s how I found myself in a large, noisy city. My second mother had sent me to meet a scholar who would help me. He set me up with clothes, a place to live, and a job. My task was to look after injured and sick animals at what he called a vet’s surgery. The vet was a kind man. He knew about the dryads in the forest and was patient with me. Over weeks and months, I learned how to use the telephone and computer, but also how to gentle animals in pain and comfort the dying.

If came naturally to me. The first time the vet had to put down a mortally injured cat, I held her in my arms. I felt the flow of energy twisting around the injury and sending shockwaves through the poor thing. Her pain was so strong, tears ran down my cheeks as I gritted my teeth.

When the vet injected a clear liquid into her leg, the cat’s gratitude at the pain receding was stronger even than the sadness at her life’s energy ebbing away.

“Sometimes taking life is the kind thing to do,” the vet murmured. I nodded. It was a lesson I’d learnt many times in the forest. Yet I’d never stop feeling sad at the passing of a living being as I held the pathetically small body in my arms. The vet put his hand on my shoulder. “You’re a good man. Remember, compassion is a strength, never a weakness.”

The next day, the vet was killed in a drive-by shooting. The cop who came into the surgery called it random, wrong time, wrong place. I barely hid the overwhelming rage surging through me. The cop left quickly, as if he sensed my fury. My skin itched as I sat on the vet’s chair, trying so hard to reign in my anger.

My skin itched as if it wanted to peel off my flesh. When I pushed my sleeves up, the symbols and circles etched into my forearm glowed and rotated. It was time. My second mother had warned me to be ready to follow my magic.

It didn’t take long to find the gang who’d taken so many lives in the city. They thought I was crazy, walking into the house they used as a hangout. I barely listened to their taunts and threats. Instead, I lifted my hand, closed my eyes, and forced my power through my fingertips.

The laughter soon turned to screams as bamboo pinned the men into place, piercing their flesh and tearing holes into their bodies.Roots erupted from the ground, trees grew from sapling to full size within moments. The bodies were the mulch nature needed. By the time I left,
the house was barely visibly through the grove of oak trees and elms. The green cover of kudzu covered any remaining structure.

Yet my heart felt as raw as before. I had taken lives in anger. Would my second mother be proud of what I’d done? I had no way of knowing. The way back was barred to me until I came to the end of my own existence. I had to figure out the rest of my life by myself. Alone.

Except she’d said there were other foundlings. Maybe if I searched for them, I’d be given guidance. I sure needed it.

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