Day two with Niobe began much as the first, relentless training. My lesson was the same, learning to feel, to draw, to use the power of things around me. Niobe watched me with unblinking focus. She was a paradox of gentle guidance and uncompromising expectation.
"Reach," She'd commanded, her voice firm, "Not with your hand, but with your core. Feel the pulse beneath the bark, the slow, arduous growth. It is not inert. It lives. And where there is life, there is power."
I closed my eyes, pressing my palms against the rough skin of an ancient oak, just as I had yesterday. This morning, though, something shifted. Yesterday, it had been a vague warmth, a phantom thrum. Today, it was a torrent, a deep, resonant hum that vibrated through my bones. I felt the slow drag of sap, the photosyntheti
