I don’t think she’d ever dreamed of turning violent. She’d simply been pushed to believe she had no other choice, and when I pointed out that she still had one, she was only too glad to return to peace. She is beautiful and I tell her so. The sloth responds instead.
<Oh, hey. Thanks, man. I get people saying I’m cute sometimes, or slower than a snail hitching a ride on a tortoise, but never beautiful.>
<I was talking to Pachamama.>
<Oh! She’s gone. Sorry.>
Even as she speaks, the skeleton of saplings falls in a controlled pattern to the forest floor.
<It’s all right. You are beautiful too. Thanks for being our relay.>
<No problem,> she says, then amends that with a mental sigh. <Except for getting back to the tree I was munching on. That’s going to take all day.>
<Is it that far?>
<No, I’m just that slow.>
<Why? It looks like you could move faster if you wanted.>
<Oh, I totally can. When that fireball hit near me, you can bet I moved faster than I ever have. But I have to conserve my energy. I eat rubbery leaves and it’s a bit of a drag. I mean, they’re delicious, don’t get me wrong, but wow. They take forever to digest, and they don’t leave me enough juice to be monkeying around.>
<You know where the fire is?>
<Yeah. For reals.>
<I need to go there. You can ride on my back if you will show me the way.>
<You sure? I have bugs and stuff living on me.>
<That’s fine, they won’t bother me. What’s your name, anyway?>
<Slomonomobrodolie.>
<I’m Owen.>
<I thought you were Oaken Druid of Gaia?>
<Right, that too. But you can just call me Oaken if you want.>
<Awesome! Thanks, Oaken!>
<Would it be okay if I called you Slomo for short?>
<Sure!>
I move over next to her and she rises on her hind feet at roughly the pace of an advancing glacier. I fear I might need some more Immortali-Tea before we get anywhere.
<Listen, Slomo. I’m going to give you some energy. You won’t need to conserve it and you can move faster.>
<How—>
<Druidry.>
<No, I was going to say, how fast? Like monkey fast? Because that would be a lot of energy.>
<We can try it.>
I arrange the bindings for both strength and speed because I’m curious to see what speed equates to for such a creature. I have to admit: She’s fecking adorable up close. A white-furred face with a stripe of black fur across the eyes and some coarse, bushy brown fur at the top of her head and all over the rest of her. Black nose and muzzle, but the pattern of fur at the edges curls up a wee bit, giving her the appearance of wearing a perpetual soft smile. Her mental voice is kind of like that too, quietly amused. But gods below, she’s got some long claws!
When the bindings hit her, Slomo’s eyes pop wide and that smile becomes a genuine openmouthed grin.
<Wow, Oaken! This is some amazing juice! Watch out, I’m coming on board!>
I have to admit that when she spreads out those long arms with those claws of hers and leaps at me, it’s damn hard to stand still, but I do, figuring I can heal if she does me any damage, and it’s not bad at all. I grunt under the impact and the weight, but she’s gentle and hugs me more with her arms and legs rather than digging in with those claws.
<Oh, wow, Oaken! This feels amazing. I feel like I can achieve true monkey velocity, swinging through the trees like I have always dreamed!>
<Ye really have a thing for monkeys, don’t ye?>
<Well, they’re so fast! I think it’s because they can eat yellow tube fuel.>
<Ye mean bananas?>
<What? That’s a terrible name for them. Makes no sense at all. Yellow tube fuel is more accurate. Go that way a little bit.> She extends her left arm out past me head and points, and I adjust course to match. <Good. So are all Oaken Druids big hairy things like you?>
<Nay. I’m not even a big hairy thing.>
<I’m pretty sure you are.>
<Right now I am bound to the shape of a black bear. Sometimes I’m a kite; sometimes I’m a ram or even a walrus. But normally I’m a human. An old human who looks like a middle-aged human.>
<These pictures in my head—these are real animals? I’ve never seen any of them before! Except humans. I’ve seen some of them, but mostly they have darker skin than you.>
<I have never seen an animal like you before. The world is a very big place. It’s not all forest, you know.>
<It’s not? What else is there?>
<Oceans full of fish. Deserts full of scorpions and cactus. Mountains covered in trees that have needles instead of leaves. Vast plains populated by buffalo and antelope. And so much more, really. I am still learning about it meself. Every day, it seems, I meet something new and wonderful.>
<That sounds great! It’s all monkeys and leaves and birdbrains around here. Whoa, smell that smoke? We’re getting close.>
<I smell it.>
<We’re probably close enough, actually. I don’t like fire, Oaken.>
<I don’t either. I have to put it out, though, for Pachamama’s sake and all the animals that live around here.>
<My tree is probably burned down now. I almost got hit when the fire came down from the sky.>
<You can find another tree, though, right?>
<Oh, sure. That was just going to be my tree for a while. I had named it Lopoyamalachamanowe and it said it liked that.>
<Trees talk to you?>
<Of course. Trees are always talking. But most creatures move too fast to hear them. Trees try to say hi to most everything that passes through their branches, because they’re friendly like that and so happy when animals come to visit, but by the time they’re finished saying hello the animals have usually already moved on. You have to be willing to hang around and really listen. That’s my specialty.>
<You are full of surprises, Slomo. I have an apprentice named Tuya who would really like to hear that and learn how to talk to trees. Okay, I need to shift to human and take care of the fire. Why don’t ye hang out in one of the trees near here, and we can talk more later if ye like?>
<Okay, Oaken! That would be great! Can it be that tree right there?>
I head over to the right, where she’s pointing, and stop next to the trunk. I don’t even know what kind of tree it is, but I wonder already what she’ll name it. <All right, ye have all that energy, so I want ye to scamper up that tree like a proper monkey, now. Pretend ye just ate some yellow tube fuel.>
Slomo scratches me a wee bit as she launches herself at the tree and scrambles up it with those claws, but it’s totally worth it. She’s fast like she’s always dreamed, and her glee at being alive in the world is wonderful to hear right now when there’s a gobshite trying to burn the whole thing down.
<Wa hoo hoo ho ho ho ho!> she cries out in me head, and she makes some noises like that with her vocal cords too. It might be actual words in Slothian language and not simply an exclamation, but I can’t be sure. But I can be sure she’s happy. She’s having a grand old time, monkeying around like the monkeys do.
I shape-shift to human and warn her that the energy’s about to run out, so she should get herself settled. She scampers higher up and dangles from a branch, surrounded by many leaves, all within easy reach.
<Okay, I’m ready to be a sloth again,> she tells me, and I dissolve the bindings.
Is that okay?
<Ahhh. It’s quite a difference. But for a little while, I out-monkeyed a monkey. I sure hope this was all real and not some bad leaf trip.>
It’s real. Do you get bad leaf trips often?
<I meant to say a good leaf trip. Hey. You’re not big and hairy anymore. I mean, you’re hairy but only in a few places.>
This is what I look like as a human.
<Most humans I’ve seen wear something to cover up their middle. Why do they do that? Is it because you have a smaller patch of fur there and a tiny snake living in it?>
That’s not a tiny snake.
<Pretty sure it’s not a big snake.>