H.L. Pauff, 16 Nov '12

Ash’s limbs swayed and her leaves rattled as the wind rushed by. Squirrels ran around her trunk, tickling her as they raced to the top.

“Morning Maple, how you feeling?” Ash called across the path.

Maple only groaned and whistled in the wind.

“Maple? Are you awake?”

“You…your…” Maple creaked.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re tagged. God, you’re tagged!”

Ash felt exposed like her bark had fallen off or her roots were showing. “I’m…are you sure?” she stammered. “It’s not the light?”

“It’s bright and orange and….”

They would come for her soon with their metal teeth. The memories of her friends being cut down and dragged away were far too fresh for her. She looked down at the spot and felt the sap start streaming down her trunk.