Explain It Like I'm Tree

Cursed

"Well. Enough. He will not. Die. He gives me. Voice. When I am. Gone. He will be. Whole."

"Thank you, old one," Mystery said, still soft as his own footfalls. "He is dear to us, as this family has been dear to you."

Arthur's mouth made a sound like a wounded animal and like a great tree cracking in half down the length of its trunk.

Mystery stopped next to Arthur, lightly resting his chin on the arm that pinned Christopher to the ground. "Old one, you are not killing him, but you are hurting our friend. He has been forced to do such things before. You must see it in him."

"I. See."

"Old one, does the curse have power to move outsiders?"

"No."

"Does the curse force anyone to act?"

"No. It only. Whispers. It is. A powerful. Parasite."

"Then we are in no danger from it. Please, old one, may we talk? What harm can there be? If we cannot find another way, we delay your task a little while longer. But maybe we can find another way, and you will not have to destroy this life."

The anger dimmed further. This child was all that was left. Why did it have to be this way? "Child. Why. Did. You. Come. Back?" The question was saturated with grief. "One child before. Knew. The dangers. And left. And never. Ever. Came back. Why. Didn't. You. Do so?"

Christopher's eyes couldn't get any wider. "Uncle Milton?"

"He. Knew."

Mystery's ears swiveled. "So, there are ways?"

"He left. Took nothing at all. I heard him. Whisper. He would even. Leave behind. His name."

Mystery lifted a paw and placed it on Arthur's arm, alongside his own muzzle. "When he left, was the curse on him?"

"Yes. But it. Was struggling. Thinner. It seemed. Desperate. Dying. I do not. Know how. His story. Went."

Mystery exhaled slowly. "Old one, listen to your own words. There is a way to spare the child."

"But I. Cannot be sure. It will die. If I let. Him go. Perhaps I allow. More suffering. Perhaps he will. Not do. What needs. To be done."

Christopher trembled like a leaf on the ground. "I'm just a kid. I'm just... you want me to run away? With nothing?! Nobody knows what happened to Uncle Milton, for all I know he got kidnapped the day after he left! Or broke a leg and died in the forest! What's going to happen to me?"

You want him to live. You want it so badly, you'd risk it as long as he does his utmost to leave it all behind.

Arthur gave a low, creaking groan. "Child. Listen. Then think. Then answer. How far. Would you go. To be rid. Of the curse? What efforts? What dangers? How quickly? Think."

Gulping, Christopher shut his eyes, screwing up his face in concentration.

The serpent at his ear whispered ever more frantically.

Arthur countered the rising urge to end it right now.

Mystery kept his chin along Arthur's arm, pressing his paw against it.

Vivi stood back, the tip of her bat resting on the ground. Silent.

Christopher's voice cracked as he answered, "I'm having trouble... thinking. I can't do... can't make a runaway plan... it's hard to think!" He hauled in another breath. "But! I'll figure it out! I'll run... away... and I'll never come back. I won't take anything from it. I'll..." he turned his head to the house. "... I'll burn it down!"