His grim stance betrayed his feelings. He was a man who had seen many things and yet he needed a moment to steel himself. Most commanders would have moved on by now.
He had worked hard for his position. The men trusted him and relied on his sound decisions. He was making some hard decisions now.
When he looked up he saw the captain was still standing there. Waiting. Would he drop his duty now? Would he surrender?
He hadn’t seen the mutiny coming. Treason simply wasn’t a thought to him, he might be excused for not seeing it in others. Hindsight made it crystal. There was a lack of food, no sign of life and any trail they might have followed ran out weeks ago. Still headquarters had pushed them on. Find the spy or else. His face cracked into a rueful grin as he thought to himself this must be the ‘or else’.
Desperate times, but he hadn’t thought themselves desperate, not yet. He was sure they were close. He’d developed a sense for it over the years. His senses told him it didn’t matter now. He’d lost them. Headquarters had ordered them back a week ago. But he couldn’t stop now. How they found out he couldn’t guess. Well, he could, but that was irrelevant to the present moment.
The captain made a gesture and his crew moved in either side. The commander had run out of time. He steeled himself and grimaced as he let out a pulsewave to kill men he had admired and mentored. Nothing could stop his mission. He was too close now.
The man known simply as “The Doctor” leaned against the grime covered wall. Simple? Nothing about his life was simple now. Heaving himself from the wall, he dumped his bag on the kitchen table and went to pour a drink.
“Ow! Have some care…” The sound coming from the bag faded as it began rolling. The Doctor caught it just before it hit the ground. He stood dumbfounded for a moment.
“Well let me out, would you?” his mind was warning him something was off, but it seemed like a reasonable request. He managed to get the zipper halfway when the creature ran out of patience.
Out of the bag squeezed a small imp-like being. He was a whole two feet high, with hair covering his body. The coarse fur stuck out from his bright red coveralls in all directions. The scowl on his face was matched by the fragrance that rose from him.
“Now them…” the imp surveyed the cramped apartment. Books stacked in towers, racks overflowing with potions, breakfast still on the table. It took out a clipboard.
“Professionalism does not extend to home life.”
“Who are you?” Professionalism?
“Why were you in my bag?” The imp sighed.
“As I said before, I am Kindal, I am with the court of the woods, and I am here for your review.”
“Review?” The Doctor prided himself on forming a word. He did not know there would be check-ins when he accepted the job. Spend seven years as a doctor for those afflicted by fairy charms or viruses, receive immortality. It was a pretty straight forward contract, or so he thought at the time. Since then, he had been working from dawn to dusk. There were always new patients. He was not naive; he knew he was essentially a cleanup crew for the fae. But the pay was good.
“Yes, review. I have reports here that an unauthorized curse removal occurred three moons ago when it was full. Suspicion is now on you. Do you know how the parkwide curse was dismantled?”
“There were children there!” His words fell on cold ears.
“It was intended to be a royal message. You are also noted to preference the poor when conducting authorized healings. The rules were very clear. Anyone who can pay, in the order they arrive, do you understand?” The Doctor resisted the urge to kick it and nodded.
“Very good. Then I’ll leave you to your…home. Present yourself at the next moon to the woodland council to explain the aforesaid charge.” Kindal turned and strode to stand in front of the door. He coughed and waited. The Doctor let him out and locked the door. He wondered if he could outrun bounty hunters.
(Note: I am changing the title of these from Writer’s Exercises to Fiction, as they are not always inspired by the list found here.)
All trees begin life as no more than a seed. Buried deep in the ground, encased in a hard shell the small soul has much work to do. Awakening is not a process to be rushed. Each species of tree goes through a slightly different process, but all experience the push to grow. There is an urging to stretch the fibrous centers to crack the shell and head to the light. The soul inside is only too willing to give into this urge.
The seedling experiences a range of new sensations from the moment it’s seedling arms come forth. The tiny soul goes through a process in which it can only be reactionary. There are so many new sensations for it: light, heat, wind, mist, chill and rain. It is a sensory overload that can take some time to pass.
The period just after the growth of the “true leaves’ ‘ or when the tree obtains its first set of adult limbs is its first true danger phase. The number of troubles it may endure are endless. The tree may become covered in pests or worse still, a lunch for those pests. The tree is still tender and delicate and is a very tasty open for many creatures. In this stage of life, the tree learns about endurance.
Once the bark grows thick enough to be properly called a trunk, the tree is ready to be called a Sapling. Most trees feel this stage takes forever to be through. You can liken it to adolescence. This is a period of great learning for the tree, and the proceeding few decades will be spent in quiet observation and learning.
The next phase is arguably one of the most dangerous in the life of a tree. When they have grown and hardened enough to gain the attention of humans, they must be on guard. Humans use trees for many things. Their homes, furnishings, tools and more, all made with the corpse of a tree. This is also the phase of max reproduction, and all trees of any species begin serious efforts to further the forest and expand the land held by trees. Each generation spreads their seed, the saplings claiming more territory.
Occasionally humans, armed with their blades, weaken the ranks of the tree militia. They cut down the ones outside of the designated space, or the ones deemed of “good quality”. So, the trees are ever replacing their fallen brethren.
After a time, and no one except for the trees truly knows why, the tree leaves the militia. No one stops him, and he retains communication with his allies through their entwined roots in the soil. It is suspected that once one has spread as much as it is able, and learned as much knowledge as one tree can hold, it becomes an elder or a guardian. Certainly, some magnificent trees could be called nothing other than sentinels, their branches reaching so far, they must see everything. It is no wonder smaller trees hope to grow around them. The font of wisdom each tree represents would be a blessing to any student.
Then, after a century or two, at the end of its life the consciousness it has displayed for years will simply begin to fade. It is going to sleep, back in the earth. This is a relatively quick process, when compared to the other life stages. The kingdom of Mycelium knows when they are needed. They begin the breakdown with ease. The tree allows this breakdown, letting its memories seep through its roots to the soil below. The Mycelium people feed deeply, converting old wood into new ground.
C.M. Wellsmore 