Northern_Lights_2019

41 Sicily called this tree “The Mean Tree.” Her sister had named it that because its branches always drooped lower than you thought they would, and if you walked too close without paying attention the tree would hit you in the head. Sicily and her sister often imagined that the tree was reaching for people that passed by. It would wait patiently like a spider or a praying mantis and lash out at any other careless adventurers that were foolish enough to walk close by it. It would then slowly absorb its victim into its bark, growing slightly taller each time. Sicily tiptoed up the slope, being careful not to step on any small twigs or dry leaves. Her foot would slide down the damp soil a bit with every step, but she silently steadied herself and crept closer. Finally, she made her move. Kneeling down, she sprang forward with a cry and latched onto the tree’s bark. Carefully, she rotated around the frozen enemy until she had enough leverage to pull herself up onto the curved trunk. Having tricked the tree, she now owned it, and she mounted her newfound subject. Slowly pushing herself forward on the trunk, she reached up and grabbed one of the lowest hanging branches at its base, pushing up with her legs and pulling with her arms until she could put her booted foot onto one of the hanging limbs. Testing it with her weight, she decided to trust it and brought her other leg over, hoisting herself up. Her bravery pushing her forward, she repeated the process, slowly clambering up the twisted branches like rungs to a crooked ladder. Trees like this one usually have very sturdy branches at the base. Some are broken off near the trunk, but even these splintered boughs could be balanced upon and clung to. Other limbs are more malleable, however. When the wind blows too rough, or an adjacent tree falls and hits them, or a small child climbs on top of them after a rainy night, they break off and fall to the ground, taking the tree or the girl with them. Of course, little girls like Sicily don’t want to fall like branches do, so when the limb underneath her left foot started to bend toward the earth, her eyes went wide. Scrambling with her hands, she couldn’t find any branch close enough above her to grab onto. Instinctively, she threw her arms around the trunk, grasping at the peeling bark. The branch under her foot started to creak under her weight. Its cry started out high-pitched and light, but it quickly lowered into a deep growl, punctuated by a sharp crack like a gun shot. The branch and Sicily fell away from the tree, both hitting the ground at the same time. She landed on her legs, but they gave way under the pressure and her body slammed onto her back. The slope of the hill carried her momentum, and she rolled over twice before landing on her back again at the bottom of the hill near the entrance to the small grove. When she landed, Sicily heard a loud “pop” and her left leg went instantly numb. The wind was knocked out of her lungs by the impact, and she lay gasping at the bottom of the hill. Her hair splayed over the ground and lay over the left side of her face, blocking her left eye. Slowly, she started to regain her breath, but fear set in as she tried to move her legs. Her right leg was alright as far as she could tell. She could bend her knee and wiggle her toes, but as soon as she tested her left leg a searing pain shot up into her spine. Sicily let out a short scream into the silent forest. Shocked by the pain, she needed another minute or so to think straight again. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her shallow breathing became fast and scared again. Fear crept into her brain, and her mouth shut, holding back a sob. The ground was cold and damp, and the dull ache in her left leg scared her. As she closed her eyes, holding back another scream, a tear rolled down her cheek and onto the wet ground, mixing with a dark puddle of rain water right next to her head. After a few minutes, Sicily began to think again. The shock of the fall had almost all gone, and she started to think about her parents. She wondered if they could hear her from all the way out here. Finally, after considering it for a bit, she yelled “Dad! . . . Mom!” as loud as she could. The forest again answered with silence. Sicily opened her mouth to yell again, but the unechoing stillness of the wood was too much for her. She began to cry. This cry was deep and welled up from within her throat. Sicily was scared. Scared of the cold, damp ground. Scared of the deep blue sky that would eventually give over to the darkness of night. Scared of the pain in her leg, and the powerlessness she felt. Sicily cried for a while, each sob louder than