Post by ironiclaugh on Jan 13, 2012 15:26:40 GMT -5
arbore
Trees were creatures of great knowledge and wealth. And by wealth, it was implied that they were rich in the earth that housed their thirsty roots. They were wealthy in that they knew so much more than most species. Though they could not share it well, it was understood that trees spoke to one another, in hushed tones. Never raising their voices, as they had no mouths. They had no brains, so they could not think. But they did. They knew well when a tiny woodland creature made it's home within their branches, within their arms with which they hugged so eagerly the creatures they adored. They knew when one of their own passed away within the forest. They knew when there was a fire, a flood, a natural disaster that rocked their usually peaceful world of half-conscious, half-asleep living.
This was their fate, to live and to know, but to be unable to do more than give shelter to the weak. And they accepted that. They knew not of any other way for them to change, nor did they truly want to. They would rather be as they are, without the turmoil of wars and such. They saw it often. Creatures killing one another, with their claws and their arms and their limbs that could move. And for that they were truly grateful. Not that they knew it, not that they worried about it. The continued on as they were, whispering away in the wind. They waved their outstretched limbs in the air, the leaves and the moss that clung to them flying happily through the crisp air. But they were not truly happy.
It was a summer of dry sadness. Not exactly a drought, but most certainly making it difficult to find ample water for the hundreds of trees. Already they had lost three saplings, who's roots did not stretch as far as their mothers and fathers, unable to obtain the water they so desperately needed. But there was most certainly enough sun. They baked underneath it, their bark growing coarser under it's harsh rays, that clustered in among the leaves. But in the deeper parts of the forest, the great, old trees, untouched by the humans that had been here before, the nuclear meltdown, the ravaged grounds and the harsh times that had first followed. They had lived on. They had prospered despite the times they lived in and, eventually, through. And they gave shelter from the greedy tendrils of heat and light from above. They sheltered their young, but gave them just enough light to let them thrive. And they loved such a life, and they prospered and they lived without fear of the outside world.
There came a gust, sending crackling leaves flying, through the air and away, and those that remained, they danced. It was very rare for wind to penetrate through the thick branches and foliage of this sanctuary, of this place of old. But this one sand out, telling the world that it brought with it news from the outside of the forest, which the trees always greedily drank up, almost akin to their thirsting roots. While trees could not smell - they had no noses, as should be known - they had their ways. Like dogs or wolves, almost, they could sense much on a breeze. And they could tell. There was no great change, no great wars or danger. But there was a disturbance, of great beasts unseen before among their ranks. Four legged, like the wolves of old. Like the wolves, so long ago, when the forest was so small and this beyond-age place had been a normal forest, that had run beneath them and gave to the trees great joys. And they had returned.
Trees do not often wonder about things that are not practical. They more normally find joys and reflections in the things of the now, not the things that have maybes or ifs or that deal with a future that they do not know nor pretend to know. But they had always remembered the wolves. With their fur so thick and their legs so long. And they were so gleeful to greet these wolves, a raucous welcome starting up among them. The gust gave them the excuse, as it lasted long and hard, and helped to send them into a frenzy unlike any other. They were not magical, nor different than any other tree. But they knew well, despite being bound in one spot for their entire lives, and beyond that, how to move in their own special ways.
And these wolves, they could tell, were special. Different than before. But they did not care. No, the trees found no reason to fear them or be hostile or any such reaction. Nor could they, in all honesty. And that was fine with them, too. They were okay with it all.
But something else stirred, something of tree and something of wolf. It listened long and hard to the joyous cries of it's brothers and sisters, and to it's offspring, who were not like it, since it had only ever mated with another tree. And even then, that was not the mating of the wolf world, which it knew well of, also. Yet it was chiefly tree, of times like these. It had not come into contact with another wolf in some time. Not since it had been all tree, not half and half. Not since it had become what it was now. There was further stirring, further struggling and huffing, if you'd wish to call it that. The raspy noise of a tree falling over. Not a great, tall oak or fir like those that surrounded him. But a small tree that had lived longer even than the towering giants. Roots sprang out of the ground, though not at all quickly. They came out with time, an eternity it might have seemed to a mortal wolf, but to it, that was as fast as it could bear to bring itself, as fast as its bark would allow it.
Creaking and groaning and popping and churning up dirt, slowly but surely, it arose from the ground. Now it was not chiefly tree. It was both, or maybe neither. It was tree and wolf, wolf and tree, neither nor. And it was fine with that, as it was fine with all things. Akin to its brothers and sisters, it had the mentality that all was perfectly fine, taking its time and going as he pleased. The world was wonderful, and so was this thing, and its family, and the families that mingled with them. Though, they had no real concept of families. But it understood, and from then until it would return to its resting place in this forest, stationary and without sign of movement or life other than a normal tree's, it was, in fact, to be thought of as he.
He looked as any wolf, though far different still. The body was in the right shape, though instead of fur, leaves and moss and foliage of sorts grew over him, though mostly is was bare bark that covered his 'flesh', which consisted of wood, like any good tree. Branches, however, sprung out of him, branching off as branches might be known to do, in all which direction. His roots curled into feet for him, and in turn paws, knotted together as if they had grown that way naturally. He moved stiffly, even if he were to look like the swift beasts lupus. He remained still, despite himself, taking his time as he ought to do, and always would. One might of thought him to have paused to think, but in all actuality, he was working on moving, working on taking the first step, which he eventually did.
The trees around him took their 'minds' off the festivities, if you were to call them that, warmly helping him along the way. They encouraged him, supported him, despite his being abnormal, different from they. But they accepted him, as he was still one of them in more ways than one. And for this, they considered him ambassador for them, though they never had before required this. And, they were certain, would not, even now. While they would have acknowledged his attempt to speak with the wolves and make it known they were not the only ones there, he would not, merely because they had no need to. No full desire. It would have been perfectly fine if he had, but the trees would not push him to do so, nor would they push him to do anything. They were fine as they were, silently so joy-filled over the return of the wolves, their swishing tails and nimble steps, and now, they found, the curling and twisting horns, the bright colors, vibrant and different than gray and black and white and brown, and the wings and extra tails and limbs and all sorts of wonders.
notes;
word count- 1506 words
music- Ellie Goulding Lights (dubstep remix) - Eyes && Life Is Beautiful - Sixx.am
tags- n/a
