||[Apr. 20th, 2009|12:47 pm]
In response to Trees|
Today would be the day. He was sure of it. He had waited patiently for years, no, centuries for today. One chance to make a difference. One chance to mean something. Still, he waited. Patiently. Silently. That was his way.
Off in the distance he heard them approach. He could hear their tools of death roaring and growling as they came closer. And he could hear the screams of the dead and dying. Do they even know what they do, he wondered. Surely they must. They seem intelligent, if barbaric. How could they not hear it in every fiber of their being as he did?
The sounds of battle died down, and it was quiet for a moment. Perhaps they were leaving? Maybe they had come to their senses and called off the senseless slaughter. Despite himself, he breathed a slow sigh of relief - his kind always embraced life; death never appealed to him, whether that of his friends or of his enemies, and there had been too much today already.
Then another scream broke the silence. Another death. They had not stopped, they were merely regrouping before they continued their assault. He cursed himself for hoping for something better. They would never stop. They would never stop, until they were stopped by force. He steeled his resolve.
As they advanced towards him, he grimly smiled to himself as he considered that his advanced age and poor health left him in the best position to carry out his mission. They were nearly here now. It was almost time.
A few more steps.
Wait till you see the whites of their eyes.
At last, the entire battalion was within his reach. The time had come for him to make his move.
He reached inside for a reservoir of strength he barely knew he had, and through sheer force of will, broke through pieces of his frail lower frame. A century of attack by beetles and rot had left him weakened, so that he could press the attack now. He started to move on them, and gave his best battle cry.
They couldn't move at first out of shock and sheer terror. Not only was his size simply overwhelming, they were completely unprepared for one of his kind coming down on his own. Poetic justice. When they finally started to run, it was too late. He crashed down into the middle of the group, broken branches piercing flesh and immense limbs crushing bodies. He could feel their warm blood on his bark as it ran down to where it would water his children. And he could hear, at long last, their screams of death. As he was breathing his last, so were they.
Too much death? Perhaps. But he died knowing that today was a victory for the trees.