This picks up from where the last part left off, in the logged area that was once a great forest:
She put the acorn back down, nestled it under some leaves and pressed her hand to the ground. It was still moist from a rain two days earlier.
“Feel this,” she said. When she looked up at me, the smile she wore was strained. I noticed the waver of her lips as I crouched beside her and placed my hand upon the earth.
“What am I feeling for?”
“A heartbeat.” She put her hand over mine and splayed my fingers a little more while pressing firmly downward. “Now?”
I did feel something. As I focused on the sensation, more of a sound than a feeling, it became stronger.
“Yes, I feel it,” I said. She nodded.
“Now, feel deeper.”
I closed my eyes and sought deeper for more. Beyond the leaf mold, beneath the deepest roots and even deeper still my thoughts envisioned the deepest roots of the oldest oaks in the forest that once stood in this place. Much deeper than that. Close to the inner heat, I felt another, stronger and more regular rhythm. When I opened my eyes, she nodded, acknowledging what she already knew was there.
“That is the heartbeat of the Earth,” she said. “Now feel again, not quite so far.”
It didn’t take so long to reach the one I felt next. This one was unsteady, slow for the most part but racing and then returning to baseline, so slow as to be almost undetectable without knowing it was there. It didn’t feel right and when I opened my eyes again, she was watching. The look in her eyes was worried, wild and the smile was gone.
“What is it?” I asked.
“The sleeper. He’s waking.”