Morea:

I feel strange. My poor tree has not been the same since the winds came and shook me to my core.

My roots run deep, my bole is strong.

But the winds came and blew and blew, and whipped up the dirt with ruthless vengeance.

My poor tree.

Twisted limbs and creaking boughs. The scarred edges of my wounds throb, weeping sticky sap.

The winds blow again, this time only a gentle breeze, murmuring through the pines. I shiver. Even this small breath of air rasps against the raw, throbbing wounds on my poor tree.

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Just before, my branches were lush with ripe fruits and my bole was strong. Now I am fading.

But my Nyssa said she would save me. She has gone for help. She will make me strong, she will steady my pained shivering.

My poor tree.

“Morea?”

My Nyssa was here.

She will make me strong again.

“Morea, I’m here.”

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My usual updates are mondays and fridays but I decided to add this as an extra because it is so short. Enjoy! The next update will be a long one. It will be up in two days =)