He'd done it. He had finally finished planting the final tree in this country.

He could see the sprawling desert outside of his forest and he hated it. He would eventually begin to leave his forest to help spread it to the world, but for now, he needed to rest. He had spent more than three-quarters of his own body to make it this far.

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He didn't know when it began, but he had stopped being human. Maybe the gods had felt his desire for plants and changed him. But with it came the constant pain of using himself to create life.

He began to walk through his forest, no need to mind the forest as all of it was him. It took him months of mindlessly walking to reach the center. No need to stop for food or drink. His forest nourished him.

As he leaned against his first tree, time passed. He would surely fix this world once he awoke, but for now, he needed to grow.