Ochre shook himself out of his reverie. Well, he was in the proper territory to be harvesting bark. Even now he was at the bottom of a heavily forested slope, which itself rested at the foot of one of the towering young mountains that made up this norther chain. True, most of the trees around here were spruce and conifer (and those had their own uses), but he'd spotted the few golden-leafed stands he was looking for on his way down to this small clearing.

Tilting his semi-ursine muzzle away from the flames, Ochre closed his almost human eyes, let his mind wander... smoothly as a salmon swimming against the current, he was moving--or rather, his mind was moving. His body remained firmly rooted to an old log beside the well-maintained fire, sitting as if in deep meditation.

He could hear the whispering of the grass, the sleepy murmurs of the trees as they settled into their slow rests. Searching for the voices he wanted, he coursed slowly through the nearby forests, companionably acknowledging the plants and animals that noticed him. Finally he found the particular stand that he was looking for. The rasp of leaf-on-leaf called out to him, the particular silvery tones of autumn Birch standing out against the heavier coniferous voices.

Venomdrawer... the voices of the trees melded together, and yet were separate as the called his name, back again so early?

Clear skies and fresh rain, my friends. How has the weather been treating you? the Ursael said by way of greeting.

With a shiver of wind, the trees replied, Well, friend, though the spruce encroach on us as they have every year. Are you here to harvest, then?

Aye, if you'll have me.

Ochre, polite as always he was, smiled on the stand of trees.

There was a moment of contemplative silence, as if the trees were consulting among themselves, and then came the reply, If you would remove our competitors, we would let you walk among us and look on future endeavors in great favor.

It was a common sort of response, one which Ochre had taken up before. Turning his attention now on the voices of Spruce, which horned their way in on his attention, Ochre held up a mental paw. To the coniferous saplings, which were beginning to object strongly to their imminent uprooting, Ochre said, You are aware of your sisters' debt to me, when I rid them of rot? His tone was gentle, and his smile warm. The trees, reluctantly, admitted to having heard such a thing. Right. I understand it is your nature, following in the place of Birch and Poplar, but... and he let his awareness travel to the trees he would have to take care of, this is another way of things. He didn't mention that, with the thickness of the new growth, few would survive in the first place.

Thank you, Venomdrawer. Be free to walk among us at your leisure, he caught the Birch say, before their combined voices returned to their usual dusty autumnal chatter. In another moment, he had withdrawn to his body, and, slowly opening his eyes, he regained awareness of his surroundings.

For all that it had felt like he was gone for only several minutes, the sun had moved across the sky, and where it had been mid-afternoon, now evening was setting in. He previously crackling fire had faded into fitful dozing embers, and with a grunt, the golden-furred Ursael got to his great padded feet in order to throw on some more logs.

Perfect, he thought, picking up some dried pieces of wood he'd that carried from outside this valley, tomorrow I will work, and the next day, I will be off again. And he went about preparing himself a meal, and for another night under the cold stars.