"Again," Tram ordered.

I clenched my teeth over the razor-sharp frustration that sawed my gut in two. The moon glowed bright around the branches of the trees he'd told me to "talk" to. So far, the only thing I'd communicated with was the Trinity oak's trunk; actually, it was my boot doing the communicating with every fierce kick I gave the tree. It was immortal, and Tram couldn't feel my touch, anyway, so it wasn't like I was hurting anything.

"That's not going to ...