The Forest Champion! Site

He swung a mechanical claw, but Elara didn't flinch. She slammed the butt of her rowan staff into the soft loam. “Listen,” she whispered.

The lead harvester, a man in a brass-plated exoskeleton, laughed through a grilled visor. "Nature is just raw material, girl. Move, or be mulched." The Forest Champion!

Elara didn't charge them with a battle cry. She simply stepped out from behind a massive fern, her eyes reflecting the deep emerald of the canopy. He swung a mechanical claw, but Elara didn't flinch

The trouble began when the silence changed. The usual chatter of the squirrels and the rhythmic drumming of the woodpeckers stopped. In its place came the mechanical clunk-shriek of iron meeting ancient root. The lead harvester, a man in a brass-plated

"The wood has denied your entry," she said, her voice like the rustle of dry leaves.

With a wave of her hand, the roots retracted, depositing the terrified men and their ruined machines back toward the edge of the tree line.

The steam-suits were pinned, held fast by a grip that had endured for a thousand winters. Elara walked toward the lead harvester, who was now dangling five feet off the ground, held by a vine as thick as his torso.