In Defending Giant, the dawn’s first light awakens an ancient treant from its long slumber. But peace is fleeting. When word arrives of invaders desecrating the forest and butchering his kin, the guardian does not hesitate. With deep roots and ancient strength, he marches to protect his home, and deliver nature’s wrath.
This chapter is paired with a lyrical, swaying tune that mirrors the treant’s deliberate movements and the shifting rhythm of the forest. “Twirling Foliage” is layered with textures that echo rustling leaves and the solemn weight of ancient purpose, building tension and release as the battle unfolds.
This story began with a single picture from DeviantArt. You can visit my blog to see the original inspiration. I don’t fully remember how that strolling treant evolved into the guardian you see here, though I suspect a flicker of Treebeard’s presence helped it take root. When I recently returned to revise this tale, the rewrite came quickly, like bark regrowing over a wound.
📌 Don’t forget to like, comment, and subscribe for weekly original stories, original blues music, and magical storytelling.
🛡️ New episodes every week, don’t miss what’s coming next.
Click here or use Rumble, if you prefer, to experience this mingling of story and music that is good for the soul.
As the sun crested the horizon, two black orbs snapped open and fixed on the newborn light. The eyelids fluttered as twin branches flexed and swayed to position their leaves to drink in the light. When the glow wasn’t enough, its trunk split, and one half stepped out of the ground. Freed from the soil, the being slowly strode into the patch of sunlight breaking through the forest and spread its limbs wide, drinking in dawn’s first warmth, as if greeting an old and sacred friend.
The sun revitalized the creature as a flock of birds circled above the walking tree. It lifted its boughs, and the songbirds weaved among its extremities. The treant smiled, its twigs spreading like fingers. A bird landed on the massive creature’s shoulder and tweeted. The being gently stroked the tiny bird, voice soft as moss. “How are you doing, little one?”
The creature’s wings flapped wildly as it jumped and drifted in front of the treant’s face. As it hung there, a cascade of fevered notes erupted from its beak.
“Calm down, little one.” The fevered song cut off, and the treant positioned a branch under the bird, letting it perch upon the limb. “This time, speak slowly and explain the problem from the beginning. Leave nothing out.”
As the songbird detailed its message, the flock descended beside it. When it finished, the treant’s face fell, then narrowed into a snarl, roots trembling beneath the soil. The living tree stomped out of the sunlight, and the birds clung tightly to its branches. “How many beings are attacking your homes, and my brethren?”
.
.
.
Click here or use Rumble, if you prefer, to experience this mingling of story and music that is good for the soul.
Or if you would simply prefer to read the story, click here.
If you enjoyed the story and are looking for something else consider my book, Dead Man’s Hand
Have a wonderful day my friends!