The forest felt different somehow. Amerie couldn't put her finger on it but she felt like it was humming. Not the regular hum that a healthy forest brings, but more like a warbling - a low pitched singing. Like something was beginning to stir in the ground deep underneath her feet. The leaves didn't seem to be just green anymore but like jagged jade stones. The tree bark was no longer a faded brown, but a dignified bronze. Amerie looked up at the sky. She caught her breath.
There was no sun.
Instead, the sky was speckled with stars but much brighter than the ones Amerie had seen with her father’s telescope. These stars were like thousands of spotlights, illuminating the dazzling sky, which of course was no longer just blue, but molten lapis lazuli.
"Where am I?" Amerie half-whispered. She walked slowly backwards, tripping over a tree root. She closed her eyes, praying that this fall would wake her up, do anything to take her back to the woods she knew. For some reason, this beautiful place filled Amerie with dread. Like she was trapped inside a jewellery box that she didn’t own and would soon be accused of stealing from. But before Amerie could finish her thoughts, the very root that tripped her shot out of the ground and steadied her. The shock of not falling was greater than the shock of falling to Amerie, who could only let out a shaky breath. The tree root cradled Amerie and gently turned her to face the old oak tree it came from. It let go of her and sunk back into the ground.
Amerie blinked. When she was little she had always given herself silly little scares by thinking she saw faces in the forest. At the time her mother laughed at her and told her it happened to everyone. But right now, as she blinked, Amerie could have sworn the knots of the tree blinked back. As Amerie furrowed her brows in confusion, the grain of the tree grew closer together.
“It’s alive!...Well, you were alive before I guess, but alive like a tree, not like a human being!” Amerie exclaimed. She was about to ramble on some more about how her mother was a biologist and such but stopped. At first out of due politeness, but then because she realised she was, in fact, trying to converse with a tree. Amerie also thought of Miss Crystal and remembered to be on her guard.
However soon enough a teasing but kind smile appeared on the face of the tree.
It rumbled in the gravelly tone of an old woman and cried out, “Ah young acorn, for certain I may not seem to be always as alive to you as human beings are, but tell me are there not ways in which I am alive that human beings are less so? I have breathed life into this forest and your people. As I grow older I give more shelter to them and anything that lives here. My roots have outlived many things. They are strong, stronger than the axe. I,” she smiled sadly, “have never killed.”
And we have, Amerie mused.
Of course, it is not wise to always trust the philosopher, but Amerie found that she instantly liked this one. Amerie felt a wave of comfort, like she was speaking to her grandparents. But still uneasy, Amerie hesitantly asked, “Who are you? How do I know I can trust you?” She could have bitten her tongue off after the second question. What a stupid question, Amerie thought. But the old oak only rumbled pleasantly.
“My name is Lyndzei, but most call me Grandmother Lyndzei, so you may as well. My brave Amerie, I think you can trust me for the reason that you and I are already well acquainted.”
Amerie started suddenly. “How do you know my name?” she exclaimed.
Grandmother Lyndzei gave a low chuckle and said, “Why young Amerie, I may be old, but I would have to be foolish to forget some things. Then again,” she smiled knowingly, “You are young, but it seems you have forgotten.” Amerie was even more puzzled by this speech. Suddenly the bark began to glow and Grandmother Lyndzei seemed to furrow her brow in concentration. She shut her eyes and the grain began to twist around, revealing a name.
Amerie immediately recognised it as her own. What’s more, she recognised that she had been the one to carve it on there a little over a year ago with the penknife she got for her birthday. She had really liked this tree in particular so she etched her name into it so in a way it could belong to her. But now Amerie felt a rush of shame. Grandmother Lyndzei already had a name.
She looked up at the old tree regretfully and faintly traced over her name with her finger. “Did it hurt?” Amerie asked tentatively.
Lyndzei was touched by the child’s troubled face and replied tenderly, “Dear Amerie, did I not just say no axe, no machine has managed to fell me? It is true you gave me a little pain, but I bore it willingly. It pained your mother to give birth to you, but despite the pain she loved you. Just like that Amerie, I love you. I watched you grow up.”
Amerie didn’t know how to respond. How do you respond to a tree telling you it loves you? Then again, wasn’t it true that she loved this forest too? Amerie considered for a moment that she loved a great many things in her life, but since none of them could speak, she had never told them so or even realised that she did. But looking at Grandmother Lyndzei’s old kindly face, Amerie felt a surge of gratitude. I think I must’ve forgotten, thought Amerie, how much there is to love. It was not the case she had been unloved because her family loved her very much. But Amerie realised how much of a capacity she had for love. Amerie faintly wondered how just one conversation had already changed her outlook on life.
During this moment of self-discovery, Grandmother Lyndzei quietly but carefully studied the child. Why has it been so long? Lyndzei, for the first time in many years was puzzled, but those many years helped her to hide it.
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