Explain It Like I'm Tree

Dynamics

With just those nine words, the lamp light had dimmed and acquired a reddish tinge while the desk groaned like a man being crushed, though nothing had shifted on it.

Everything was way too complicated, post mortem.

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Mystery took himself out to the front of the house. Then around to the side. Circled around back. Up the other side. Back to the front. They'd only had this place for a month, so the track wasn't too noticeable, but he could see the grass thinning from where he'd placed his paws. It crossed his mind that perhaps he should pace a less direct path, make a pleasant, meandering track around the house. He dismissed this. If he was going to worry a path onto the grounds, it would be a simple track he could follow in his sleep.

Each time he passed around back, he glanced sideways without turning his head. Arthur hadn't gone inside, yet.

He shouldn't worry. Arthur knew this tree, and the tree seemed to have some attachment back, but nymphs were not to be trifled with. Even the silliest, giggling naiad might turn on you with a flash of silvery teeth should you slight her the right way.

Though, how many had he seen, lately? They all hid themselves. Or had most faded away?

His step slowed. He shouldn't think this way. There were plenty of others to be found, it's just... they had to be more cautious. This was no longer their world, and those that had once been prey was no longer so weak and defenseless.

Not your world anymore.

He rounded the corner to the side of the house and thumped his rump down, a little whine sticking in his throat. It wasn't his world in any sense of the word. Even his homeland was on the other side of the planet, and the creatures of legend around him were foreign and difficult to understand. And here he was, watching over a unit of humans. They who had once been prey and were now family. Except, these had already been preyed on, and he hadn't stopped it.

He stretched out his forelegs and lay his muzzle between them, allowing the whine to exit through his nose. Now he had the monumental task of piecing what was left of them back together. They had made a start, but their connections were still fragile as a new-spun spider's web.

The spectacles weighed heavily on his snout and his eyes ached. "You want me to see what you see?" he muttered into thin air. "Wonderful. I see it, but seeing does nothing. What am I meant to do about these injured kits?"

A dragonfly flitted past his nose. An ant clicked industriously nearby, scouting for food.

Abruptly, a pair of hands seized him. "There you are," Vivi declared. A moment later he was cradled in warm arms. "Thought you might be out here, moping. You mope too much. Come on, there's leftovers in the fridge from yesterday. Enough for you and me. Artie said he already ate. His loss."

Mystery's ears perked at that, his stomach grumbling, concerns shunted to the back of his mind. If Arthur was passing up his portion, Mystery was more than happy to take care of it for him.

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Arthur didn't feel like coming inside yet. It wasn't as cold as Vivi yelled it was. Sure, there was a little chill, but it was more refreshing than biting. Besides, it was peaceful out here. Restful.

He hadn't seen her since the day after the tree trimmers removed the rotting branches, but he knew she was there. Yettle. The tree who had nursed him back to life twice. There hadn't been much to tell her today, so he'd just sat out there with her, watching the sky darken through her branches. There was a leaf in his lap again. One always seemed to make its way to his lap, or on top of his head.

He wondered if he'd ever see her again. Only three times in his life had she made an appearance to him, and each time had been some dire moment. It was probably a very human thing to want to see her again, in the sort of way where he could hear her as clearly as she always heard him. To give her a hug. To interact with her on his terms. But humans had not done well by her, so he wouldn't ask. Instead, he would try to learn stillness and simple being. Stopping his frenetic pace for a bit of each day to appreciate each breath. The playful breeze. The smell of cut grass. If he kept at it long enough, maybe he could learn to interact with Yettle on her terms. Right now, he'd settle for knowing what those terms even were.

He couldn't ask Vivi to hold off forever, though, and Vivi would want it on her terms. Even if Yettle chose not to respond, Vivi would be out here with probes and questions and cameras and a tent. He'd have to navigate that eventually, and hope they didn't offend Yettle. Could you offend a tree? Offense seemed more like a human thing, too, come to think of it. There were certain spirits and deities who got very offended, he was pretty sure there were stories about that. But a tree?

A question to file away for later, he decided.

A thought rose to the forefront. It came occasionally, and it always brought a thin, tired smile with it. "Lewis is back," he said under his breath. How many months spent searching? How many sleepless nights driving the van around? All of it worthwhile. Sure there had been a few bumps—his breath hitched and he hurried past those memories—but that was all over. They were together, just like before, and even better now that they had a house to call their own.

Everything was going to work out great.