Nature and Nurture: Finding the Perfect Blend

Chapter 24: The Connection

The druid magic of purpose kept the Nemeton's own magic from fading away after the wood was cut. Given enough time an un-purposed piece of the Nemeton should turn into ordinary wood. Not any more magical than any other stick or branch or piece of firewood or furniture or building material used the world over. It was very similar to what Stiles had read about witch practices. Tools had to be charged and filled with purpose before the magic in the wood itself was usable.

Stiles shook his head. "I've been schooled."

Deaton was sly and clever and Stiles had to give him kudos for it. Instead of telling Stiles about the importance druid magic had in keeping Nemeton wood viable, he'd made him work for the knowledge. Stiles needed the wood to retain its magic in order to give it back to the Nemeton. And for that he needed druid influence.

"Ah, irony. Thy name is," he sighed. Stiles could imagine Deaton having internal spasms of delight about him seeing some good in druid magic when used with Nemeton energy.

He laughed a little at himself and stretched his arms up into the air, popping his shoulder blades before rotating his arms and shaking them out. Then he lay back on the ground with his knees bent, legs apart, and just listened to the forest that surrounded Derek's home. He really loved it here. He'd spent the previous day walking through the area, touching trees and getting to know them.

Every forest had its own feel, its own memories, its own personality. All three places; the aspen forest, the preserve and Derek's forest, had Stiles enthralled and entranced. He loved how the aspens which grew together were actually all the same plant, connected by their roots. Some of the largest growing organisms in the world. Touching one, listening to it, Stiles could follow it to all the others. The redwoods were ancient history keepers and Stiles could, and had, spent days and nights following their streams of dreaming through time. The preserve's pines were strong and steadfast. Secure in the world, holding the earth close and helping to keep the energy lines viable. And the lone trees, those without groupings, stood out as individuals and called to Stiles because of their resilience in growing and thriving among strangers.

But today, Stiles wasn't focused primarily on the trees. He went into the earth, looking for the footpad fall of Derek. He found him bounding along a deer track, coming home. Stiles smiled and flowed along with him, keeping tabs better than he ever had before, until Derek stopped not far from the house.

Stiles could tell from where Derek was standing that there was a perfect line-of-sight for Derek to watch him. He stayed still, his eyes closed. When Derek's paws started creeping softly towards him, Stiles had to work at not smiling or giving off pheromones that let Derek know he was on to him. Derek got to pouncing distance before Stiles gave out and laughed, he'd thought for sure Derek would sense his heartbeat rabbiting along.

When Derek pounced on him anyway and lay between Stiles' legs with his forepaws on his chest and a goofy wolf smile on his face, tongue sticking out, Stiles figured Derek had known. And hadn't stopped his tracking because it was too much fun.

Stiles rubbed his hands up into Derek's fur, over and around his ears, causing Derek to lean into his hands and make a rumbling noise of contentment deep in his chest. The sound vibrated through Stiles and made certain parts of him start to pay attention. He wasn't embarrassed. It had happened quite a bit when he'd been living wild with Derek in the preserve.

Nothing had actually happened between them then, partly because Derek had been aware Stiles hadn't been fully himself. But that wasn't a problem anymore. Now it was the whole Derek-as-a-wolf thing which Stiles had no idea how to handle, nor did he know how Derek wanted to handle it. Was there something to handle? Apart from the obvious?