Spinning more like a drill bit then a top, Dan felt himself hurling down but not boring through solid rock. The sensation was strange as if he could feel the dirt whirl by him as he spun dropping toward his destination to wherever. In an instant, bam, he stopped. As the insides of head continued to whirl he saw what was a large cavern and then collapsed to the dirt.

“The Yewman has finally fallen to us!” was the last thing he heard before he passed out.

“Jerinad? How do we find this Druid? Where do you suppose Dan has gone?” Rick asked his centaur companion.

“You Yewmans, always questioning, always rustling about like leaves scattered by whirlwinds never knowing where but always ending somewhere. The Meadow is. It has always been and always will be. One does not beseech the meadow or it’s Druid. The Meadow does as the Meadow wills.”

“Blow my mind why don’t you? What is this? Confucius say Confucius do? Are you telling me the meadow is alive? A sentient creature?”

“Yewman, you are awakening.”