The comfrey tincture is at least cooling, and from the position of the sun, it looks to be late afternoon - the infinity slopes were deceptively time consuming. A dizzy wave of hunger and thirst washes over you and brings a new level of acceptance.
You lurch upright and look for something to fill your belly. Luscious berries hang from a knot of brambles and you reluctantly pick some for your evening meal. A mossy log offers a convenient perch and you take the chance to look around, blackberry juice slowly dripping from your cupped hands.
The path winds up to the mirror edge on your left and you recall that the sun rises from that side. Right now, it is setting behind the craggy cliffs, on the other side of the swamp, but that is a trial for tomorrow if you manage to make it through this night. You inspect the trees around you more closely and discover that there are at least two different types scattered evenly around. One is taller than the other, with deep fissures and straight trunks, reaching up to the sky. The other sprawls untidily, its branches tangled up. Their leaves are very different too, the taller with a sort of wobbly edge, and the shorter a more classic stylish curve to a point. Underneath these are the prevalent tangles of bramble, great arching thorny things. Amidst the sea of bramble are smaller bushes and tree saplings, poking their heads above the barbs like drowning swimmers and you almost feel bad for them.
“[Oak woodland plant community discovered; novice]”
You’re almost not surprised by the whispery voice and consider the implications of the phrase. An oak is probably the taller tree, but you’re not completely sure about the other tree until an apple literally drops in front of you. So you’re in a woodland, made up of at least oak and apple trees, and together they form a community?
You thought that a community was just a collective noun for people, but the wind voice disagrees.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
You take a tentative bite out of the apple, but quickly speed up and devour the whole thing, core and all, in four giant mouthfuls. You cast around for more and you’re delighted to find lots dotted within the leaf litter. How did you miss them before? You crouch awkwardly, holding the hem of your disintegrating pyjama top with one hand and begin hobbling around, piling in apples. When you can carry no more, you pour them onto a nearby flat rock. For a long moment, you gloat at your hoard, remembering back to when apples were bought by the plastic tray, wrapped and sterile.
Just last week, you were shopping with - who was it? - at - where? You distinctly remember driving down - what street? - and then it’s gone. You sigh and shake your head, as though that would help. Your memory seems to be reliably unreliable. Concentrate too hard on them and they vanish, like focussing too much on the floaters in your eyes.
A smaller bite of apple this time, a yellow apple with red blushes - you examine it as you eat, noticing that the rest of the apples are different shapes, sizes and colours. They’re all recognisably apple in form, but they lack the pleasing symmetry and blemish free skin of the platonic apple in your mind’s eye. This one is quite elongated, and dark green, and something has been busy eating the lower half. Another is quite lumpy, and light red which highlights the big bruise it took from falling to the ground. You take another bite of apple - this one is very sour - and sort the pile into three groups. If this is a plant community, then apples must be one large collective. These three groups are all clearly apple, but different too, like different breeds of dog. You guess that each group comes from separate trees and sure enough, you can see that from inspecting the apple trees and also from where they’ve fallen on the ground.
“[Plant varieties discovered]”.
“[Apple Tree discovered; novice]”.
Your satisfaction lasts for several more apples, until a thin breeze picks up. Pyjamas work better with a covering, and you suddenly recall your thorn entangled bed.
After wrestling your blanket free from the first bramble patch, you bring it back to your pile of apples. You locate the mother tree of the first apple you ate here, and curl up amongst the deep leaf litter surrounding its base, wrapped in your blanket, just as the sun settles below the distant cliffs.