Leo’s world was small and green and smelled faintly of damp earth. It centered around the ancient oak tree that stood sentinel at the edge of his backyard. He called it Barnaby. Barnaby wasn’t just a tree; he was a confidant, a kingdom, and a silent, sturdy friend. Leo was five, with a mop of unruly brown hair and eyes the color of moss after a spring rain. Every morning, after a breakfast of soggy