For three days and three nights, Sparrow didn’t sleep. He tracked. He followed broken saplings, drips of blood and disturbed leaves that told him where the leader of the bandits had fled. His mind was a dark stormcloud filled with visions of Maddie’s face and of the leader of the bandits.

Sparrow imagined all the things he’d do to the leader. The ways he’d cut him. Burn him. Sparrow’s eyes smouldered like bonfires in the night.

On the fourth day, Sparrow came to a river. On the other side of the river the lead bandit was splayed out with one leg twisted over the other. One of his arms gripped the stick he’d been using as a crutch.

Sparrow floated over to the river and knelt down beside the leader. Inside Sparrow burned with fury he’d never felt before. Sparrow touched the man’s forehead. It was stone cold. A fly buzzed around the man. The fly landed on the bandit’s lips and crawled around. The man didn’t flinch, didn’t take a breath.

He was already dead.

Sparrow let out a scream of anguish. He had no place to unleash the fury and the guilt he felt inside.

With weak arms, he dragged the man’s body to the river and kicked it in. It bobbed up and down on the surface. But even when it disappeared from his vision it did nothing to heal what he felt in his heart.

Sparrow looked around him. He was in the middle of a giant pine forest in the middle of nowhere. There was no one to talk to, no one to blame, but himself.

He screamed.

A tree stood in front of him. It was thick and old, tough knots were woven through its trunk. Sparrow turned his fist to stone and smashed it into the trunk. The pain spread through his knuckles and through to his shoulder felt good. He took another swing, and then swung again until his fist burned with a sharp white pain and red blood began to pool despite the stonefist.

Then he used his other fist. By the time that one started bleeding, the tree was leaning heavily, about to crash.

Images of Maddie floated through his mind. Their kiss. The cave. Working in the fields.

He kicked at the tree and his foot passed straight through the remaining bark. With a rush of wind and a giant creaking crash, the tree fell to the ground.

Pine needles whipped around Sparrow, and his breath burned. It felt good to destroy the tree, to smash it into smithereens.

Another tree stood not far off. He marched over, touched a bloody fist to it, then smashed that fist against the bloodmark he’d made. His breath shuddered from the pain. Maddie’s smile floated in front of him, he drew his other fist back.

Hello. A voice whispered to him.

‘Huh?’ Sparrow said, he looked around him, there was nothing but trees.

Did you know how long that tree had been living there? The voice sounded as though it was wind whispering through the pine branches. It brought with it a pine-filled scent.

Sparrow gave a shrug and lined his fist up for another smash. The bark of the tree in front of him had begun to crack and the fleshy inside was stretched.

Why? The pine-filled voice said, it sounded sad, The tree has not harmed you.

Sparrow drove his fist into the wood, drops of blood bounced from his fist into the trunk.

Behind him, a giant tornado of pine needles whipped up. It caught Sparrow in its pull and spun him, knocking him around and around until he’d forgotten which way was up and which way was down.

Then in the heart of the tornado, the voice spoke to him again.

Your name is Sparrow. A bird. Yet you are so keen to kill the trees that give you a home.

‘I don’t care,’ Sparrow said, raising his arms, which were trembling from the exhaustion of the last week, ‘Show yourself, so I can kill you.’

You are a cultivator, the voice said to him, You wish to learn the magic of the world.

‘Maybe.’ Balls of flame wrapped around Sparrow’s aching hands, ‘Maybe I just want to kill you.’

But you have ignored the magic of the forest. The voice said. It’s slower, more subtle. But more powerful than your explosive fire.

A blast of wind blew the flames on his hands out. The pine needles twisted into lengths of rope that held him in place as the wind blasted around him.

I am the god of the forest. The voice said, And I think you have a lot to learn.

Sparrow gulped, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t even breathe.

How would you like to learn how to draw strength from the ground Sparrow? The voice asked, How would you like to heal yourself on command, to speak the language of trees, to learn the magic of the earth.

Sparrow swallowed, he couldn’t focus on the voice, his head kept filling with Maddie, ‘I guess…’

You guess what? The voice said, it was all-consuming.

Sparrow tried to think about it, learning all those things sounded good. Too good. He’d been tricked before.

But the wind was battering his face, the pine needles pulled his limbs tighter and tighter, stretching his bones.

‘I guess that sounds good.’ Sparrow said, ‘I want to learn earth magic.’

A hush fell over the woods. The pine needles released Sparrow and he floated down to the ground. The pine needles floated around him like snowflakes.

Good.

The Forest God chuckled to himself as Sparrow began to grow bigger and bigger.

But he wasn't just growing in normal human proportions. His arms were lengthening much faster than his waist and his feet sank down into the ground, springing out almost tentacle-like roots that wormed their way through the earth. New arms sprang up on Sparrow's chest. They began to grow bark and sprout leaves. Within minutes Sparrow was as tall as the forest canopy. His leaves fluttered in the wind. He could no longer move a single muscle.

What have you done to me? Sparrow thought and the Forest God just laughed.

You wanted to learn earth magic? the god said, Well, there are many ways to learn earth magic but in my opinion, this way is the best. Having power isn't just about being able to kick people's butts. In fact, it's not about that at all. It’s about what you do with the power. Why should I give some idiotic young mortal earth powers when he's only going to use those powers for chaos?

Sparrow tried to defend himself but found he couldn't speak, You may think you're doing good with your powers. The God of the forest said, But you are not. You are too immature. To really use them you need to experience what it's like to be part of the forest.

Sparrow's blood - or at least his sap began to boil. He was so damn angry at the Forest God. He made me a tree - a tree with no way to move.

Then there was a rush of wind and Sparrow was left alone. A soft wind blew through the forest, making his arms, no branches, creak. A beetle crawled up his trunk.

Um… Sparrow thought, How do I get rid of it?

He tried to reach down, flick the beetle off like he used to. But his arms were fixed, they wouldn’t move a centimetre.

It’s okay, Sparrow thought as the beetle began to burrow into his chest, no, trunk. There was a tickling, itch feeling that made him mad.

It’s okay, Sparrow tried to calm himself. You'll learn this earth magic, you’ll kick that Forest God’s ass, and then you’ll get him to turn you back into a human.

Sparrow sighed as a bird landed on one of his branches, I give it a week, tops.