So, this is the point in this story where the events start to get difficult to believe. But you seem like you have a kind heart, and I trust that you’ll at least hear me out, even if you’ve already lost that part of you that Mag begged me to hang on to.

The instant I hit the start button, hundreds of butterflies of all different colors sprung forth from the Butterfly Box and came at me. I batted at them, but they swarmed me just the same. They didn’t harm me, but they did sprinkle some glitter on me that put me to sleep.

I awoke in a forest, cold and frightened. I had no idea where I was or what those butterflies had done to me. Wherever I was, I couldn’t be on Earth. I knew this because the trees surrounding me were blue, and above me were stars of all the colors you might find in one of those boxes of crayons that has sixty-four colors in it, I think. The one with the built-in sharpener on the back. Although the sky was cloudless, rain drizzled on me.

I thought maybe I had fallen asleep without noticing and was having the most vivid dream ever. But that was a stupid thought. This place was too real to be a dream.

I hated this place. I hated the smell of wet earth and pine that was assaulting my nose, and I hated how the trees made eerily human-like moans and groans.

If I wasn’t dreaming, then maybe I had died and was put somewhere on the hell side of the afterlife spectrum. Not too far over—this place sucked balls, but at least I had been given shoes. Of course, this was all guesswork. It was going to take some time to figure out where I was, and I had a more pressing problem to deal with: I needed to find shelter and get out of this rain.

So, I walked along the path I was on, hoping to find a cabin, as cabins always seemed to end up along woodland paths in the stories I’d heard. I walked along these moaning trees, some of them pine, some of them maple, some of them fir—Douglas fir, I’m going to say, not because I think that’s what they were but because that’s the only kind of fir tree I know the name of, and Mrs. Lennon said to be specific when describing scenery. There were also a few fruitless apple trees and the occasional northern red oak, the leaves of which were also blue despite its name (which I’ve probably gotten wrong anyway).

I soon came to a crossroads. I looked in each direction, trying to detect something to indicate that one way was the right way—a tree of a more pleasant color than this miserable blue or perhaps a cabin—but all paths promised nothing but misery.

I then heard the voice of a sullen child. “Hello,” it sighed.

“Hello?” I looked around but couldn’t see anyone.

“To your left,” the child said.

I looked to my left but still saw no one. “Who’s there? Where are you?”

“You’re looking right at me. Although I guess I’m not surprised you can’t see me. No one ever sees me. I’m not really much of a tree. I don’t even have any features.”

Now that I knew I was looking for a tree and not a human, I spotted the little guy who was speaking. He was a sapling about as tall as me. I went to him and touched one of his branches, and he confirmed I had the right tree.

“You can talk. Even though you don’t have a mouth. I’d say that’s a feature,” I said. I was trying to get on his good side. He might be the only talking tree and, therefore, my only potential source of information for miles. “You’re also one of the smallest trees in these parts.”

“Yeah, one of. Whoop-dee-frickin’-doo.” As the sapling said this, he twirled his branches with enough sarcasm to win a contest. Then he wept uncontrollably, and water seeped from his leaves.

That’s when I realized it wasn’t raining. These trees were crying on me.

“Can you tell me where I am?” I asked.

“Oh, what does it matter?” the tree wailed.

“I’m just lost, is all.”

“Well, of course you are. You’re in Desolation Woods. We’re all lost. And even if we knew where to go, we’re grounded by our roots, and uprooting spells certain death for us trees. Movement is not an option. Oh, it’s all so hopeless!”

“It’s not all so hopeless,” I said, even though it probably was. And who was I to preach hopefulness? The last thing I had ever hoped for was for my dad to come home. And when I learned he was dead, I decided that having hope was as stupid as dipping potato chips in peanut butter (which my dad used to do). But if I allowed this sapling to believe all was hopeless, I would never get any information from him.

“Plus, I’m not grounded,” I said. “I don’t have any roots. See?” As I said this, I lifted my leg and shook it.

“Show-off,” the sapling said, annoyed with me now. “Besides, it’s not like that makes any difference.”

“Of course it does. It means I can move around.”

“Pfffft! How much good does that kind of physical autonomy really do you? Face it, mobile or not, you’re grounded by your roots. We’re all held down by something.”

This conversation was going nowhere. Which made it like a tree, in a way. While I was too distraught to appreciate the irony at the time, I feel it’s worth mentioning now.

I collected my thoughts, and when I was one hundred percent sure of what I wanted to ask and how I wanted to ask it, I said, very slowly, “If you wanted to get out of this forest from here, assuming you had legs instead of roots, which direction would you go in?”

“Trees can’t leave the forest, so it doesn’t matter.”

That response annoyed me. “But I told you, I’m not a tree!”

“Imagine if a tree left the forest,” the sapling went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “Then the next tree would want to leave, too, and he’d go stand next to the first. And then the next one after that would do the same, and so on. Eventually, all the trees would leave the forest, but in doing so, they would create a new forest and be stuck all over again. So why bother moving anywhere? Do you see what I’m saying now?”

“Well, no, not really, because that doesn’t make any sense. Couldn’t each tree go somewhere different?”

“No.”

“Why not? Why does the second tree have to follow the first?”

“Because we’re trees. We have no choice. And there’s your answer.”

“Where’s my answer?”

“The answer is you have no choice. Your subconscious already knows which way it’s going to make you go. It decided as soon as it saw this crossroads. It’s just waiting for the rest of you to catch up while you have this conversation with me. So you can feel like you had some control over the matter. But you never did. And you never will.”

“Are you sure? That doesn’t sound right.”

“Fine, then! I guess I’m wrong! Just like always!” And with that, the tree began wailing again. “What chance did a tree ever have of knowing anything anyway, right?”

I was beyond frustrated. I considered just picking a direction and getting away from this sapling. But then I’d be proving his point by blindly following my subconscious. I also reminded myself that he might be the only talking tree in this forest, and I needed to learn as much from him as possible.

I knew I wouldn’t get any information unless I could get him to stop crying, so that was my goal. My only points of reference for getting someone to stop crying involved my dad and me. But, as I had always been the crier, this situation would require some role reversal.

“Hey, I’d like to start over,” I said tenderly. “I’m sorry I was impatient with you. I was so caught up in my own situation that I didn’t realize how sad you were.”

“I hate being sad,” he pouted, folding two branches across his trunk.

“You know it’s okay to be sad, though, right? Everyone gets sad sometimes.”

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Yeah?” the tree sniffled. “Even you?”

“Of course.”

“Really? Even though you have legs?”

“Yeah. In fact, sometimes I get sad about my legs.” I don’t know why I said that; it wasn’t true. “And I’m actually a little sad right now.” This was true.

“How come?” He seemed interested, and not so much water seeped from his leaves.

“Well, for one thing, I’m not sure I even exist at the moment.”

The sapling let out a short giggle, and his leaves flickered yellow for half a second. “You’re silly,” he said, not quite so solemnly as everything else he had said. “Of course you exist. I can see you right there.”

“Hey, you’re right!” I said in the patronizing way that adults like to talk to children. The tree flickered yellow again, and I assumed this meant he liked being patronized. Realizing I may have found my ticket out of here, I laid the patrony on thick. “I hadn’t thought of it like that! But, yeah, if my body’s here and you can see it, then I must exist. You’re a smart tree, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know. I guess I can be pretty smart sometimes.”

“Very smart, I’d say! You’ve really helped me gain some perspective on my problem.”

“I have?”

“You sure have!”

“Well that makes me feel a little better about myself.” This time, his leaves stayed yellow for several seconds before fading back to blue.

“You’re still a little sad, though, hey?” I asked.

“A little.”

“What’s going on?”

“I just feel so plain and ordinary. I feel I should be doing more with my life, but I don’t know what. I feel stuck. And useless.”

“But you’ve helped me realize I exist. That was useful. And you’re the only tree who’s helped me since I got here. In fact, did you know that you’re the only tree who’s even bothered to talk to me at all?”

“Really?”

“Yeah! All these other trees are so wrapped up in their sadness that I don’t think they even noticed me. But you did, and you’ve even gotten my mind off my troubles. Where I come from, that’s one of the most useful things someone can do.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that?”

Of course, I was just saying it. I was saying it to get some directions out of here. But, obviously, I wasn’t about to tell him that. I told him I meant it.

“Can I ask you a question?” the sapling asked.

“Sure!”

“I know it’s a long shot, but…”

“What is it?”

“Will you… be my friend?”

“Of course I will! I’d consider myself lucky to have a friend like you,” I lied. I was willing to say anything to get out of here.

“For real?” he said in disbelief. His leaves went yellow again, and they didn’t turn back this time. “Oh, man, this is exciting! I’ve never had a friend before!”

“Yeah, they’re the best,” I said carelessly.

“What do friends do, anyway?”

“Oh, lots of different things. But mostly they explain how to get out of forests. Or at least that’s been my experience.”

“Oh,” the sapling said, disheartened. “I’m afraid I’m not a very good friend, then. I don’t know the way out. I don’t even know where any of these paths go. If I were you, though, I would go that way,” he said, pointing a branch. “I saw a couple araknor go the opposite way a little while ago, and you don’t want to run into them.”

“What are araknor?”

“Araknor are poisonous spiders. And they’re huge. Some of them are even half as tall as me. Small spiders aren’t so bad because their fangs aren’t big enough to get through your bark, but araknor’s fangs are even big enough to chop down grown-up trees. And they hiss really loud. If you hear hissing, run.”

“I’ll definitely watch out for those. That was very helpful advice. Thank you.”

“Happy to be of service,” the sapling said with a bow.

I then said I should be on my way. The sapling wished me good luck and said to come visit him again anytime.

I told him I would, but I was lying again.

I had been walking only a few minutes when some araknor attacked a nearby tree. I heard a loud crack and a disgruntled utterance of “Yep, fuck me, I guess.” The araknor’s victim then leaned toward the path as it slowly fell twenty yards ahead of me. “Oh my God, this is such fuckin’ bullshit,” he muttered as he fell.

I then heard the hissing of the araknor. I took off like a rocket back the way I had come. As I ran, I glanced behind me to see if I was being followed. I wasn’t. Then I looked forward again to see an araknor blocking my path.

It looked like a dark, hairy, saber-toothed rock with eight legs as long as mine and eight haunting yellow eyes. It hissed again, spitting white froth from its mouth. Some of it hit a nearby tree, searing a hole into it.

My heart threatened to burst through my chest. I turned around to run the other way, but there stood another araknor. The path was blocked.

I clambered onto the lowest limb of a nearby oak. I then hoisted myself onto the next limb. Then another, and another, and another. The pair of araknor continued to pursue me.

I reached a point where the limb above me was too high to reach and the ground was too far below to jump safely. The araknor had caught up to me. I backed away from them, but I could feel the limb bend under my weight as I moved further along it. The tree began to crack and shouted, “Ow! Ow! You motherfucker!”

My plan to escape had failed, so I moved on to plan B, which was to call for help. “Help!” I cried. “Heeeellllp!!”

When no one came to save me, I moved on to plan C: Grab a big ol’ branch and start a-swingin’.

“Yeah, that’s right, don’t ask or anything. Just go ahead and take what you need,” the tree snarked as I pried a branch from it.

Plan C worked okay for a while but went south when one of the araknor chomped the branch, snapping it in half. The branch fell to the ground, my last hope of fending off the araknor along with it.

Then, just as I had come to terms with my death, a voice from below called, “Hey! You leave my friend alone!”

I looked down and saw a shock of yellow leaves. The sapling had heard my cries for help and had come to my rescue. He caught the araknor’s attention, and they lowered themselves to the ground on their webs.

As the araknor approached the ground, the sapling flung rocks at them. This seemed to anger the araknor. They released themselves from their webs and dove at the sapling, but he dodged them and tangled them in his long roots.

As he fought to restrain the araknor, he called out to the nearby trees. “Come on, guys! Help me out, here! Now’s your chance to be useful!” You could tell by the way he said it that he really thought that last line was going to get everyone to rally behind him. All he got, though, were a few indifferent responses of “What’s the point?” and “Why bother?”

I quickly climbed down to the tree, not to help the sapling but to escape. We’d both die if I tried to help. He wouldn’t want that.

The sapling yelped in pain as one of the araknor freed itself from his roots and bit him hard. “I’ve been paralyzed! I’m done for! Run, friend! Run for your life!” he implored, even though I had already started to do so.

The araknor chased me, and I could feel them gaining on me. One of them tripped me with its leg. I hit the ground, skinning my knees and then tumbling onto my back. The other araknor then jumped onto me, crushing my chest.

I squeezed my eyes shut, clenched my teeth, and tightened every muscle in my body, bracing myself for the unbelievable pain I was about to endure. But then the araknor squealed, and its weight was gone from my body in an instant. The other araknor scuttled off into the trees.

I was pretty sure I was safe, but I was too scared to open my eyes.

“It’s okay, Emerson. You’re okay,” a familiar voice said.

I opened my eyes, and there was Mag. My heart was still pounding from the adrenaline, but my fear was gone.

“Are you hurt?” Mag asked.

“Yes!” I cried. Then I mentally scanned my body and realized that, miraculously, I actually hadn’t been hurt aside from my skinned knees. “I mean, no,” I corrected myself as I picked myself up.

Then the sapling began moaning as if his soul were escaping him. I ran to him.

“I’m not going to make it,” he said weakly. “This is goodbye, my friend.”

For a second, my heart stung with guilt. To me, this tree had been nothing more than a tool for me to use to get some directions, but I had obviously meant much more to it than that. It had sacrificed itself for me. It wouldn’t be dying right now if I hadn’t lied to it. But people on Earth were always taking advantage of trees, so why should I feel guilty? Besides, it wasn’t my fault that this sapling was dying. It was the araknor’s.

Of course, I didn’t say any of this. I didn’t want this tree to die sad from knowing that my friendship had been fabricated. Instead, I knelt next to him and held one of his branches. “Don’t say that,” I said. “Isn’t there something we can do?”

“No, there’s no saving me. Even if you could heal my paralysis, I won’t survive. I’ve uprooted myself. But it was worth it. I kept the araknor distracted long enough to save you, right?”

“You did,” I said. “And it was the most useful thing any tree has ever done for me.”

“Good... Useful... That’s what I was going for.” The sapling’s voice was growing weaker with each word.

“Thank you,” I said.

“No, thank you. Thank you for showing me what happiness feels like. I had spent my whole life practically dead until you came along. So, please, don’t be sad for me.” He began to cry, but not like before, not like the other trees in Desolation Woods. These were golden, jewel-like tears. One by one, his leaves detached from his branches and were scattered by the wind. He stopped crying as he lost his final leaf.

I let go of his branch and stood up. I picked up one of his leaves and put it in my pocket to remember him by. “I really was lucky to call you a friend,” I said. And this time, I meant it.