The tree and the lake
One
Elias thrashed in the dirt. He lifted fistfuls of wet moss to his mouth and sucked at it. Wind blew dirt into his eyes, mud clogged his ears. Groping blindly, he seized on a root of the great oak that clenched the stone slab above Jutta's shallow grave. The root spasmed under his hand, but he grabbed it with both hands and strained to lift it, craning his head down to bite. Tasting bitter sap he bit deep, but the root ripped away, wrenching teeth from his jaws. Elias wailed and fell back, trying to wipe the dirt from his eyes with wet and muddy forearms. He caught glimpses of his teeth dropping from the root as the bite marks closed up. He reached up to his mouth to touch his gums, but his hand was not there.