Land of Salvania

  The old man lit his pipe and blew an elaborate smoke ring. "So, you say you've seen a tree man." "Indeed, I have, sir," the small Yunni said. Even seated on a fallen log, the man was taller than the Yunni. "I have seen them too. Not near these parts, though." The man blew another ring and said, "I even spoke to one." "They speak?" "They do, but they prefer not to," the old man said. Then he smiled. "Old people are much the same, sometimes." The Yunni waited for him to go on, but the man seemed content to poke around his small campfire. They were in a forest clearing outside the man's cottage. His name was not a sure thing among the Yunni, so they called him the Hermit. He seemed to have lived in the same manner for decades, puttering around his cottage and tending a small garden. Finally, the Yunni said, "This tree man was walking and tapping on trees, almost like he was...well, it's silly....

  "So what's the news from Overhill?" Sam asked as his cousin Hal dropped onto a bench outside the Green Dragon. Sam was leaving and Hal was arriving. Hal looked at Sam and shook his head. "I don't rightly know no more." Hal had a queer look on his face, almost like he had seen a ghost. Hal took out his pipe; his hand shook as he lit it. "I think I saw a Tree-man tonight." Sam straightened, a tingle prickling down his spine. Those old stories about elves and tree-men and oliphants always grabbed him hard. "Alright," Sam said, sitting next to him. "Tell me." The cobbled lane was empty, and a few noisy patrons inside had started a song about "A pipe and same ale to keep yerself well..." "Ya see, I was out hunting grouse, out on the North Moors beyond Old Boffin's place." Hal patted the leather sling looped around his belt. "And I got the strangest feeling, like I was being watched." Sam s...