Today was such a mess. Mira was seething by the time she left her office and stepped into the parking lot.

It all started with that phone call she woke up to. "Would you kindly be able to come in today? Even though it is your day off? And you probably have plans that you have to throw out now?" No matter how much her manager could phrase it as a question, it was no less of a demand. The false sincerity just made it worse. Yes, people do need to call in because they're sick or they left their keys in their car or their fish is drowning or whatever, but did they really need to wait until the last possible moment to do so? At least she didn't forget anything when she sped through her morning routine.

Then, she had bothered her friend for a ride to work. She was supposed to be able to pick up her car from the repair shop two days ago, but they were 'experiencing delays'. It's funny how devices that allow instant communication -- amazing! -- are in every building and pocket, yet she wasn't informed of this until after she walked in and couldn't find her car. At least he didn't say anything while driving her; the last thing she needed was more useless conversation that she needed to autopilot her way through with 'yeah's and 'uh-huh's.

Once she went in the building, she made plans to carpool with some coworkers to get home once the day was over. However, after needing to stay after for four whole hours -- twelve more than she have been there at all, twelve and a half if counting the ride there -- they had vanished without a trace. Again, without taking a moment to let her know plans fell through using any of those magical communication devices that are everywhere.

Mira's choices included walking home under the vanishing sunlight on the sidewalk, or walking home under the vanishing sunlight on the sidewalk then cutting through the forest. Her friend was usually busy this late in the day and she couldn't get a hold of any of her flaky coworkers on the phone. The rental bikes she had seen on occasion weren't available in this part of town, of course. All she could do was walk home, but at least she had a choice as to how, even though the choice wasn't about which way she preferred but which way she wanted to avoid least.

She began her journey home by leaving the empty parking lot and following the street southward. Loud motorcycles, noxious trucks, and ugly cars passed her by. The road was built on an uphill that pained Mira's ankles as she strutted up it. Meanwhile, the wind kept blowing her long hair over her mouth, nose, and eyes. With every other footstep, she was either spitting out strands or pushing them away with her hands. After about a minute, she gave up and just let them cover her face. When someone is knocked down enough times by the same thing, that person learns it is futile to resist whatever it is. For example, after a few unpleasant disputes with her employers in the past, Mira learned to never say 'no' to anything they ask her over the phone. She wished she had said 'no' this morning, but then she would have been out of a job, and she preferred not having to look for work over today not having happened.

A few blocks in, the hill leveled out. Mira paused to lean against a lightpole and roll out her ankles. More vehicles drove by with their annoying scents and sounds. Why is Rush Hour even called Rush Hour if it lasts the entire day? Also, did this street suddenly become a highway when she wasn't looking? If there was any more exhaust in the air, it would have been visible. She needed a break from this, and the woods that opened up before her provided just that. All she had to do was wait five years before she could cross, and then she could be on her way. The stop sign here was for decoration only; car after car would run right through it, taking a moment to slow down just the least perceptible amount. Did everyone think they were part of a funeral procession? They all seemed to be dying to get home! Or, maybe, they wanted to be in one after running over someone foolish enough to cross.

Once she took her chance to sprint across, she was finally free from other people, at least until needing to pop out of the woods and back into the streets on the other end. Here, the birds didn't make her ears explode when they soared past at a hundred miles per hour, and the trees didn't emit fumes that made her nose shrivel up. Too bad she wouldn't be able to savor the trek; her goal was to get home as fast as possible, and the trails here provided a more direct route than going one direction and then the other on the sidewalk. The solitarily was just a bonus.

The soft ground beneath her acted as a cushion for her aching ankles. Each crunch from stepping on leaves pleased her ears. With her arms clasped behind her back, Mira gazed around at all the trees around her. So tall! They all appeared vibrant and healthy, unknowing of stress. All a tree had to do was eat, in its own way, at least, and rest. A tree didn't need to worry about having its day ruined by someone not showing up for work, or even work itself. It must be so peaceful living like that. Here, she could almost forget about---

Thunk. Mira's foot kicked against a root. Whirling her arms around was barely enough to prevent her from falling over onto her chest and face. Well, I guess you can't escape little---

Thud. Her toe smashed into a stone. She didn't trip, but once her foot caught up with the fact that it was in pain, she brought it up and gripped it to help with the throbbing.

What did it take for a woman to have a moment of peace? Could she please go a full minute without something dragging her down? Even nature itself was pitching in on making her day miserable. Her vice on her toe tightened. Every day is the same. You wake up early, which you don't want to do, go somewhere you don't want to be, come home later than you wish, waste time you don't have for a few hours, then go back to sleep earlier than you want.

Letting go of her toe, she resumed walking, clenching her teeth to deal with the stinging pain. At least she could still walk properly. Of course, the sky had to be getting dark and make it harder to see the ground. Today was just one inconvenience after another.

Squelch. Mud sprayed on her pants. Somehow, some of it soaked through and got on her legs. Growling, she stepped out of the patch with a squish from her soaked shoe. Really? How was that even there? It hadn't rained in days! Also, what was she thinking, assuming the mud wouldn't get everywhere and ruin her clothes? Oh well. All she could do was move on -- move on and wait for the next thing to happen, then the next, then the next... Her gait turned into a stalk. Every right step went squish to remind her again and again of what happened. 'Hey, your foot is still wet! Hey, your foot is still wet! Hey, your foot is still wet!' It seemed like quite a glaring flaw in the human brain that one couldn't shut out certain senses.

Mira's brooding was interrupted by a low-hanging branch that smacked her squarely on the forehead. Stopping for a few moments, she shut her eyes before blinking. The pain, she could deal with, but it would take a few seconds to get past the disorientation. Grabbing the branch to steady herself, she was glad she didn't fall backward from the impact; there would have probably been a perfectly-positioned rock or mud patch to greet her.

Mira stepped forward, only to be halted by a tugging at her scalp. Her hair was tangled in the branch. Literally, how. It wasn't a question. How does this even happen? It's impossible! I didn't even pass under the blasted thing. All around her, the wind picked up and the trees rustled in laughter, mocking her. Oh, they were up to something alright. She was this close to lashing out at them. What good would that do, though; someone would come in to investigate some yelling in the middle of the night only to find her shouting at some plants. She would sooner see a raise than be able to explain her way out of that one.

Backing away as far as possible, she took a look at the branch. The tangle wasn't too bad, but getting this rats' nest undone would be a nightmare in the dim light. Wait, she could use the flashlight on her phone! Pulling it out, she set it between her teeth to free up a second hand and went to work. If only she realized she had a flashlight with her at all times from the start -- on her magical communication device that she prided herself on actually using, no less -- she wouldn't be wet and in this situation now. Stupid trees, making her forget!

She was about halfway done freeing herself. Forget using the flashlight; at this point, I should just leave and go back on the sidewalk! A faint crunch sounded behind her, then another, like footsteps, getting louder. She didn't care. What was it this time? Did the plants walk now? What were they going to do this time? Were they even going to do anything more to her or just sit back, point at her, and laugh? She grunted as she almost ripped out a section of her hair. Now, her anger was making her apply too much force. The steps continued coming closer.

"Are you alright?" said the man behind her. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to someone. Frankly, she was embarrassed and looked like a mess. Maybe if she ignored him, he would continue on his way as if nothing happened. He'd probably go home and tell everyone he knew about the crazy lady he passed by on his walk, though.

The footsteps stopped right next to her. "Here, let me help you." Mira twisted her head as much as the tangle let her, enough to glare at him and pierce his soul. With her phone in her mouth, there were no words to be said, but the message was just as loud and clear. I don't need your help. Go away. I know what you're thinking. Go! "We all have our bad days. Stuff happens. That's why I'm offering to..." She hardened her glare. "...oh, I think I'll be on my way then. Good night!" The angled light added to the intimidation. It was like when she was young and her parents would tell spooky stories around a fire, except the fire was in her veins. Too bad it wasn't enough to stop however witty of a remark that 'Good night!' was supposed to be.

Finally, after the stranger disappeared into the darkness, she freed herself and could move again. She did not look forward to combing through her hair. She also did not look forward to having to clean her clothing or needing to go to sleep right after getting home just to repeat the day all over again tomorrow, which would include figuring out transportation yet again, either.

Mira listened to the faint trickle of water ahead of her. Her phone's flashlight revealed a wooden bridge above a cute little stream. It would probably creak when she crossed over it -- which it did, by the way; yet another thing in this annoying forest was out to irritate her.

On this side of the bridge, the ground was more solid. It wasn't on the brink of collapsing into mush under her feet. Mira's ankles were fine at this point and no longer needed the softness. If she was correct, this was about the halfway point to her house. Which means I'll probably have to deal with everything all over again a second time. She double-checked the battery life on her phone. It was still high, so she didn't need to worry about turning the flashlight off or dimming it to make it last. At least she was safe from---

"Ahh!" Mira let out a string of curses, hopping on one foot before falling over. "Ungh." Her phone fell nearby; thankfully, the side with the light landed upward. Tiny, yet sharp, pebbles embedded themselves into her hands as she pushed herself back onto her feet. She took one step with her left foot... and cried out once more, almost falling again but catching herself in time. Her left big toe shrieked in pain, shooting needles through her foot. Looking back, she saw the culprit was yet another root. Really? She had a light on, and she couldn't see that? It was sticking right out of the ground!

Before going to bend over and pick up the phone, Mira tested her foot. Putting even the smallest amount of pressure on her toe made her wince. Now the forest was trying to break her toe! Today was just one thing after another. She was sick and tired of it.

Then, she tried walking in a circle around the light. Since the right side of her foot was shot, she needed to put her weight on the left side. Mira had a noticeable limp; shifting off her left foot as soon as she shifted on it made her motions stiff and choppy. Even the swinging of hers arms was affected as well; her left arm barely moved at all, and her right arm would reverse direction once it reached her side instead of continuing behind her. Tilting the front of her bad foot inward toward the right helped slightly, but it wasn't much; anyway, it made her feel like she was going to twist it the wrong way. It would only be a matter of time before her right ankle would tighten up from the unnatural gait.

The laughter of the trees started again as the wind picked up. Her phone, still on the ground, lit up countless leaves and branches against the dark sky. They were a thousand mouths, all cracking up at her expense, at what they put her through. Behind it all was a blackness of nothing -- no sympathy, no help. Mira could almost hear her heart beating. "I've had it!" she shouted, letting her voice echo off every plant and creature. Her face reddened and her veins became visible. "Every day I have to deal with my job sucking my soul away. I don't need you to help with it!" She took a deep breath before punching the tree next to her. All of her built-up emotion was channeled into blow after blow. The resulting stings only fueled the fire that was her fury.

"Hello." Mira stopped. The voice was deep, drawn-out, and seemed to originate from every direction. In the sudden calm, she could feel the veins in her face pulse, as well as the beginnings of a headache.

"Who..."

"I am right in front of you." The tree she had been hitting had no hint of movement; not even the branches moved since the wind had stopped. "Now, you have quite the rage in you!" It sounded impressed. "Why do you do these things?" Mira didn't have an answer. She stood clueless with her eyes wide open.

"It's such a shame," said the tree. "There is so much stress in the world. You folk move from place to place faster than I can think! No wonder why animals -- especially you humans! -- have so many problems. You have so much going on at once that you have no room for any other thoughts! With so much movement, how are you to let the earth reach out and embrace you? It fills me with sorrow to know that your kind has never felt its care."

Mira tried to step away from the tree, but couldn't move her foot. Looking down, she gasped when she saw roots burst from her shoe and tunnel into the topsoil. Frantically, she bent down, careful not to injure her left foot further, and tried to rip away at them with no effect. "Return to nature, I say," the tree continued. Mira watched in disbelief as her other foot rooted itself to the ground in the same manner. Her hole-ridden shoes felt increasingly tight.

"Oh, I know what you are probably wondering." What is happening to me? "'But tree, what does that mean? How will it help me?'" Or that. Mira tried desperately to speak, to say something, anything, but words failed her. Regardless of what she was being preached to about, whatever was happening to her was quite *un*natural. "Well, well. The answer may be a little long for your liking, but no rush. A few minutes is nothing in a lifetime." The tree was painfully unaware of what was going on right in front of it, and she couldn't even mutter a plea for help!

The pressure on Mira's feet disappeared as her socks and shoes burst apart. Except, her feet were not feet, but stumps rooted into the ground. She pulled her legs upward until her muscles strained, but the stumps would not budge at all. "I do not move as you creatures do. Instead, I sit here for my life. But it's not boring, you see, I... ahh, I'll get into that another time. The birds and the squirrels are always pushing my buttons so to speak, and while the weather soothes my heart, sometimes it is a little much. Yet my bark is always here to protect me from my nuisances." Mira's body tingled all over and she felt... heavier? She was being dragged down, brought into the safety of the soil. The tingling became an itch. Her skin puffed outward and became extremely rough. Scratching herself all over to relieve the sensation felt dull beneath all the... bark! In the light from her phone, still going strong, there was no mistaking the brown hide that had spread over her, or the clumps of hair that were falling down from her head. "Grow a thick enough skin, I suppose, and nothing can harm you..." The bark continued to expand outward, making her whole body feel bogged down. She could no longer tell if the bark was still growing or if her wooden insides were thickening. It was too much for the rest of her clothes to handle, which ripped apart and fell away. Despite now being nude, she did not feel a chill. Her bare legs knitted themselves together and became the base of the single large trunk that her chest now was.

A wave of drowsiness washed over Mira. Raising her arms far above her head, fingers spread wide, she opened her jaws to yawn, but couldn't get any air in or out. Fearful, she tried again and again to inhale, but nothing would enter her throat. Her heart didn't beat faster -- in fact, her pulse was completely gone. With no more blood flowing, warmth left her body. She wasn't paying attention to the tree, but now it was talking about sap.

With a loud crack, Mira's arms locked into place. Her fingers bent forward, backward, left, right -- every direction -- but despite the multitude of sickening noises, it was painless. Her rough fingers were both being tugged and pushing themselves outward into branches. At the ends, they tingled as leaves grew in. She was now part of the mocking canopy that had made fun of her merely a few minutes before.

With everything else complete, the bark covered the up-to-now-ignored senses of her head. Her last sight was the green and browns towering above her; taste, the dry roughness of her mouth; sound, the ramblings of the tree; and scent, the forest she was now forever an indistinguishable part of.

---

Ah, the joy of life, thought a tree. It was a strong tree; though not as tall as its neighbors, it was no less capable in being a tree.

As far as the tree's memories could go back, it lived in this little pocket of the world it called home. Except, this wasn't its home per se; the land was the home of all the plants and animals that shared it.

Something large brushed up against a side of its trunk and blew through its branches. That must be the wind, the tree assumed. Good thing I am safe here, part of the ground. I stay tall and upright no matter what! The wind died down. Then, there was a light patter of something considerably smaller crawling up its trunk. A squirrel?

It was curious how all these creatures were so tiny yet moved so much. They seemed so vulnerable to being knocked over by the smallest force. How did they survive the wind and others of their kind crawling all over them? If they enjoyed climbing on the tree, they must enjoy doing the same to other living things. Also, without setting down roots, how was one supposed to take in the wealth of the Earth and grow strong and healthy? Maybe that's why they're all so tiny!

Anyway, by moving around so much, how do these creatures know where they are going? Everything must pass by in a rush! It already took quite the effort to think; for the tree, thoughts often came by slowly, like sap oozing down a ramp. Events just happened because that's how they were, nothing more to it. Where you were, where you are, what's happening here, where your home is... so many things to keep thinking about at once! The tree would never be able to do so. It would keep needing to repeat those things over and over again without ever being able to advance any other thoughts like what it wanted to do once it got to its destination. Even that last phrase took some effort to complete.

Though the speedy animals couldn't suck up the nutritious gift of the world around, they could still bask in the gift of the sun. The tree wished to grow taller and reach for its warmth, and maybe one day touch it -- the sun itself! It was good to think up a silly thought every now and then. Though getting closer and closer, taller and taller, always brought happiness to the tree, it was not exactly a life goal. Having a goal didn't make sense. Why believe something was constant when the world was always changing? All it leads to is trying to resist future, which then leads to dreading it instead of letting it happen.

The sun was back! It's glorious warmth shone on nearly every leaf. Some of the leaves were blocked off by the branches above them, but the tree didn't worry; they'll get their chance to embrace the sun eventually. It didn't know why the sun seemed to shine from different angles sometimes; it was just something that happened. The tree wanted to reach closer to the sun. It wanted to stretch out its branches and spread out to catch as much of the warmth as it could. Hmm? Trees didn't move! Where did it ever get that idea from? The tree repeated the thought over and over to prevent it from fading, trying to figure out where it came from. The thought was almost foggy. It was like there was a wall over which it came from, extending in every direction. If only the tree could claw its branches around the side and get around it... There is was again! The thought of movement was again shrouded in the strange mental fog.

Here's the wind again! The chill of the wind balanced the warmth of the sun. Neither was uncomfortable, but they showed how volatile the world was. Both could come and go, independent of each other, without any warning. Despite opposing each other, they didn't fight; together, they made the world a more interesting place. The tree wouldn't want it any other way.

This gust was no more different from the others, but the tree felt there was something more to it -- not that the wind itself carried anything new, but the tree could almost sense something strange that it never noticed before. With the brushing of the breeze came a... came a... a sound? What?

What of all things, now, is a sound? The tree couldn't deny that it sensed something. It felt like it was on the very edge of actually feeling it, whatever the 'sound' was. The tree couldn't remember feeling the sensation before, yet it seemed almost... familiar in a way. Maybe if it tried a little bit harder---

Whoosh! There was an explosion of noise! The howling and whistling of the wind was all but impossible to ignore. Hidden in it were the other sounds it carried -- the chirping and chattering of the creatures of the forest, the tinkling of a nearby stream, and the rustling of other trees and plants. All of it was exciting and new -- except that it wasn't, since it already knew what each noise was and where they came from.

Where did the tree get this knowledge? The thought that popped into its consciousness calling the sensation a 'sound' had almost completely faded away, but the tree was still able to repeat it and keep it fresh. Again, it seemed to be shrouded in fog, but now it was thinner, less concealing. The barrier was still there, though; the mysterious other side was still so close and yet so far away. Poking around in the clearings, the tree sought out any bits and pieces of where the memories came from.

The tree once walked these woods and the strange lands outside where the ground was gray and met at sharp angles. How did I walk? The tree sought out the answer to its question, but it couldn't find one. It must be hidden in the fog still. Also, what exactly did it mean for something to be 'gray', a color? Color was such an abstract concept. The tree knew what color was, but it wasn't anything tangible, nothing that it could feel. One could see color, though... Sight! Could sight come back as hearing did? Alas, the tree was exhausted from the effort of hearing once more, so it made doing so the first item on its mental to-do list. If it repeated the thought enough times, hopefully it could remember to do so without the reminder fading away and being forgotten.

The poor tree tread water in a sea of confusion. Trees didn't walk or run or hear -- or know what colors are, it added. Was it always a tree? The tidbits of knowledge were seeping through that mental barrier. Were they memories of a former life? Everything had to die eventually, but did memories transcend death? The cracks in the wall became larger, turning the dripping of memories into a weak stream.

In the disorganized memories -- in all of which the tree was small, skinny, and soft! -- this creature, this person that the tree was witnessing the life of, brought a tear to its non-existent eye. The person knew the peace of the world and always sought it out, but only managed to find it so infrequently, and when it did, for so short a time. In most of the person's waking moments, it -- she -- was in mental anguish; all of the anger, sadness, frustration, and hopelessness that the tree had never experienced before threatened to swallow it whole. How could anything bear the thought of being alive when all it meant was to toil in seeking out happiness only to lose it and go through the strain of finding it over and over again?

The wall separating the tree's memories from the woman's wavered and failed, causing the fog to dissipate more quickly. Recalling her life was surprisingly easy now; instead of needing to search out fragments of it, the tree could remember her memories as its own.

No wonder why the woman was often unhappy; she was obsessed with time! Her life was divided into 'days'. The term seemed to make sense at first, meaning the period of time in which the sun's warmth started to fill the tree and faded away into the cold before coming back again. However, even when the warmth of the sun was gone for longer than usual, such as when clouds took over the sky, it was still considered as part of a new 'day' without rhyme or reason. On most of these mysterious 'days', she would always wake up though she wanted to rest longer, perform a daily routine she did not like, move to a location she dreaded, perform many more unpleasant tasks, move back to where she was before, and shortly after go back to sleep. Her head was always overflowing with so many thoughts at once, many times more than the tree could ever handle on its own! Yet, somehow, it managed to. Unfortunately, the tree now understood why the woman let herself be ruled over by time -- her entire kind seemed to be so obsessed with it as well. There could be no peace when one was always racing. The tree hoped the critters that were always bouncing about didn't have to deal with similar torment. How horrible!

Who was this person? The tree replayed her morning routine in its head. Being able to see through her eyes made it really miss being able to see the world for itself, but it was too tired to try to bring that sense back. She was pulled out of sleep by an alarm clock, got out of bed, and ate a bowl of cereal for breakfast. Then, she picked out some clothes for the day and went to the bathroom. Before undressing and taking a shower, she gave herself a quick look in the mirror...

The tree knew who this person was. It was it. It was her. She could not forget her own face. She wasn't just a nameless tree; she was Mira. Once, she wished she could leave her job and take a long vacation far away from civilization. The former wish was granted, but not the second, and by the looks of it, she would be quite unable to do so, being rooted in one spot forever. She learned to hear again and planned to figure out how to see again; could she move again, as well? Ah, but she was so exhausted from straining herself all... day... remembering who she was.

Mira emptied her mind, so easy now that she knew what it was to be at peace, and let the earth embrace her and give her its gifts to absorb. Her roots drank water -- once this was all over, maybe she could try bringing back the ability to taste things, but that would be a stretch considering she no longer needed to 'eat' like she did while still a human -- and her bough caught every drop of glorious warmth the sun provided. Sleep overtook her.

---

Mira woke up, startled. Something touched her for a split-second. She tried to open her eyes and stretch her muscles but then remembered that she was a tree and didn't have any of those. Silly me!

Something touched her again and pulled away. The feeling was in her lower trunk. It wasn't the wind, which would continually blow on her entire body, and it wasn't the skittish climbing of some critter. She wasn't being felt by someone, either; there was too much force in the touch for someone sliding their hand across, and it was more of a poke than anything.

The next poke was a jab, pricking her. Hopefully, whatever it was would stop soon. It was starting to hurt.

Chop. A stabbing pain flared up in Mira's trunk, following by more stinging as whatever stabbed her was pulled out.

Chop. The blade -- if that is what it was -- drove deeper. Pain filled her mind, leaving little room for other thoughts. If only she could sense what was going on, like maybe seeing what was poking her... Oh! That's right. She was going to try to open her eyes again. Maybe, if she tried---

Chop. The surge of pain shot Mira's eyes open, and for the first time in forever, she could see! Everything was bright and blurry, but she could see! Below her was her attacker, a blob in a world of white that was vaguely shaped like a humanoid. At the end of what looked like one of its arms was something, but it was too blurry to make out. Blinking didn't seem to help by any significant amount. If only she could bring down a branch or two and rub her eyes!

Chop. Mira had no mouth and she needed to yell out. She needed to do something. She needed to move, to distract herself from the pain, to make whoever it was stop. While the world was still bright and out of focus, the blinding light had let up enough for her to recognize the object the figure held -- an axe. She was being cut down! The woodcutter wouldn't stop until she fell over onto the grass, dead and ready for collection. No! She would not die unable to defend herself.

The cutter paused before readying up for another swing. Mira focused on her bough. All she managed to do before being hit by another strike was sway her branches a few inches. A few leaves broke away and fluttered in the calm air before hitting the ground.

She tried again. Her branches swayed just as little before she was struck again. So much effort, and yet it was far from enough! If I commanded just a branch or two, would I finally be able to save myself?

Mira picked out two for the task. One was on her left side and the other on her right, relative to her eyes since that was the closest thing she had to a face. Long, thick, and strong, they were located near the bottom of her bough. Arms.

Another swing took out another chunk of Mira's trunk. She felt lightheaded and dizzy. The edges of her vision swirled. Her roots were becoming numb, causing her to feel empty as the earth's motherly embrace lessened. She channeled what was left of her might into her two arms.

Loud and sickening crackling echoed through the forest. The woodcutter stopped his chopping and looked up. Countless twigs were being shed from her bough. Then, in one stiff motion, two large branches swung downward, passed in front of Mira, and knocked the person over. He and his axe went flying into a nearby tree. His body hit its trunk with a satisfying thud and bounced off onto the grass, unconscious.

Unfortunately, there was little time to celebrate. Mira was weak from her injury. She brought down an arm to clasp her wound, but she couldn't quite reach it with the end of the branch -- her hand -- without overshooting. More but quieter crackling ensued as she bent her stiff arm and recreated her elbow. Her grip on the cut caused her hand to snap as the end broke apart and reformed into fingers and a thumb.

The wound did not throb since she did not have a heart to beat but oozed a sticky fluid that got all over her wooden hand. It was sap! For all that concerned Mira, though, it was still blood. It flowed through her and it wouldn't be good if it didn't stay inside her. It wouldn't taste metallic anymore, right? Too bad she didn't have a tongue or mouth. Yet?

Mira's head felt clearer. Her vision straightened itself out. If her body was healing itself, it sure was wasting no time at all! She couldn't take deep breaths but imagining that she was helped her calm down now that the danger had passed. She would live and be fine. There was nothing to worry about. Now I am thinking like a tree again. Of course there was something to worry about -- there was still the unconscious woodcutter right by her! Was he or she okay? Would he or she try to cut her down again after coming to? Her tree-ish self was right on one thing, though -- she should take a few moments to let herself be at peace before doing something.

As her trunk healed, Mira could feel nutrients and water properly flow through herself again. The comfort of the earth was fully present. Combined with the heat of the sun, she felt calm and sleepy. She forgot about the other person and fell asleep.

---

Mira woke up on her own without the rude interruption of an axe like last time. It was nighttime. The deep blue of the sky was clear of clouds, letting the light of the moon shine down. It didn't give her the satisfaction that the sunlight did. A mere tree wouldn't know that the reason why the sun's warmth would go away at times wasn't because the sun moved but because the planet itself rotated.

The woodcutter was gone. Hopefully, he or she was okay and was able to get up just fine; how was anyone supposed to know she wasn't just another tree?

Mira brought her arm down to where she was wounded earlier. There was nothing there now. A wound like that while she was still human would have needed stitches, took much longer to heal, and left a scar.

The night air was filled with crickets. The birds and squirrels must be asleep; there was no singing or chirping. Tonight seemed like a good time to take a stroll around. Bending her left arm down to the ground was easy, but her right arm felt rigid and useless, like its joints were all locked up. Oh, right, I never broke it in! The sound of wood snapping broke the relative silence. After flexing to test the new joints, she was satisfied and stuck it into the ground.

If she was going to walk, she would need to dig herself out first. The thought of losing her connection to the land made her feel a touch of sadness, but at least she should be able to set down her roots again once she was done. No, not should, but would. Nothing was ever permanently severed from the earth's embrace. There was no reason to worry.

The chunk of dirt took little effort to claw out. It was as if she was digging into a piece of jelly. Quickly, however, she ran into the first of her many roots, which hurt when her claws tried to rip them out. They did not give way, having burrowed themselves securely into the earth.

Mira stopped to think about her options. She could try to pull the roots out one or two at a time, or grab a whole bunch and give the bundle a great tug with her new strength. She didn't need to worry about permanently damaging them and waiting for them to grow back, but the pain would be an issue. However, considering her size, the root network was probably an intricate knot, stopping her from taking the quicker route.

While digging herself out, Mira wondered how she would speak or make noise again. Whatever she had to do, hopefully it would 'click' like regaining hearing and sight were. To help kickstart figuring it out, she brought her hand under her eyes and scratched out a rough mouth with a claw. Sucking in and blowing out air didn't work since she didn't have lungs; her 'breathing', if it could still be called that, was wholly passive now. She experimented with making facial expressions with her mouth. Flexing her mouth was a loud and tedious affair because each little movement required her to reform it like she had for her new arms the first time she used them. Making any sort of tongue was definitely out of the question.

She thought back to the tree that had talked to her before. Its voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, like it was the forest itself that was speaking. That didn't help. Whenever she wanted to move, she would be uprooted and thus disconnected from the forest. Was there another way?

Mira's face twisted into a smile. Oh, she was thinking too much like a human and not enough like a tree! Silly humans, needing to do so much in order to let out a sound, so many muscles to move. All she had to do was hum! Her whole body -- roots, trunk, and branches -- resonated with the note. Then, a gust picked up, making the trees of the forest sway as if they were applauding her. "Thank you, thank you," she replied, not realizing she spoke until she was done. That was easy! Her voice was like the other tree's -- deeper, drawn-out, booming -- but was still clearly her own. It reminder her of when she used to play around with voice changers when she was younger; despite all the filters, there was no mistaking who was talking. She hummed a song quietly as to not wake up any animals sleeping nearby and continued working.

"Ouch!" The humming was interrupted when Mira hit a snag in her roots. At this point, she was in a small crater, surrounded by a growing mound of dirt. Piles of ripped-out roots circled her like a moat. Only a few more bunches of roots kept her in the ground. Whenever she moved her arms, she saw the ground come a bit closer or go a bit farther away, but she kept her balance. Tugging on the offending roots again, it seemed like they were knotted up somewhere deep in the remaining ground. No matter. She wiggled the roots back and forth to loosen them, accidentally causing most of the pulled-out ones to shuffle about as well. Back when she had ten toes, it was already difficult to just move a pinky toe without moving the ones nearby; now she had to deal with hundreds. Once she was free from the forest, how would she walk anyway? She didn't have a pair of legs -- only a single trunk. Maybe she could crawl around with her roots as if she was a spider or millipede. That would be a lot of weight to move on such tiny things, though---

Yank! The annoying set of roots came free. She shifted a bit more in her hole. This time, it wasn't as easy to steady herself.

The wind picked up again, now from behind her. The ground drifted closer and then away as she spun her arms to correct herself. She swayed forward again, but swung less, being careful not to overcorrect. However, now the effort wasn't enough and she tilted forward more and more. The movement stopped for a second before the final few roots keeping her in the safety of the ground gave way, burning from the friction as they snapped back at her. Down she went in a flurry of leaves.

It turns out that if a tree falls in the forest and nobody is around to hear, the sound it makes is an "Aah!" of terror.

Mira lie there, face-down, body aching all over. She wiggled her roots, bough, fingers, and then arms in turn, bracing for a possible flare of pain. She could still feel the ground and air just fine through them. Even though she no longer had any bones to break or muscles to sprain and tear, that didn't mean there weren't new ways of injuring herself. Once she was done checking herself over, she slowly brought her branch-arms to her sides and gradually pushed herself off the ground. Then, she stood back up.

On two legs.

Mira looked down. Even though she didn't have a heart to skip a beat, she was no less surprised at what she saw. The base of her trunk was split medially into left and right mini-trunks that were smaller in diameter. They were also short and stumpy, being only about as tall as her old human legs were despite being taller now. The feet themselves were just stumps that each ended in hundreds of roots.

When did that happen? I don't remember anything happening when I fell. Anyway, why did it affect her trunk -- well, legs now -- when it was her bough -- at the whole other side of her body -- that took the biggest hit? None of it made any sense, but at least the question of how she would walk was answered.

Grabbing a tree for support, Mira bent her leg to take a step. She didn't think she would ever get used to the loud crackling and snapping whenever she flexed a new limb for the first time. When she planted her foot back down, the roots squirmed around slightly and poked the ground as if they were ready to burrow back down at a moment's notice. She took a step with the other leg, wincing at the loud cracks. Hopefully, she wouldn't need to hear that noise ever again!

Mira let go of the tree and spread her arms out with the rest of her branches. Despite not being rooted, she felt stable. Walking around in a circle confirmed so. Though she clearly didn't need the balance, she kept her arms extended outward and nestled in her bough; they felt more at rest there than at her sides.

Confident in her abilities, she picked a direction and finally began her stroll, speeding up to a more natural walking speed -- as natural a walking tree could be, anyway. She started humming another tune to herself.

Her music attracted the attention of some sleeping birds. Instead of voicing irritation, they came out of the night and flew around her bough. Some settled into her branches and sang songs of their own. The scene made Mira smile. Once, she would have thrashed her arms about and shouted at them to go away, but that was before she knew to just let things happen. She knew to embrace the good in each moment instead of dwelling on the bad. Even though it won't make the bad go away, she reminded herself. She was thinking too much like a tree for her own good.

Speaking of the bad, Mira thought about her job. Surely, she would have been fired for not showing up for however long she was a tree for, but it didn't hamper her mood one bit. She didn't need to worry about wasting away her waking hours at work anymore. The sun and ground supplied her food and drink. Gasoline wasn't an issue; there was no use hurrying from place to place in a cramped machine when one's own legs would do. Her home was paid off, but if she ever lost it, the woods would be as good a home as any. For the company of her coworkers -- well, they were never there for her anyway.

Time passed. Mira didn't dwell on how long. A few minutes is nothing in a lifetime, she remembered being told by that one tree. She wished that she understood that while she was still a human. It would have saved her a lot of trouble. Oh well, there was nothing to be done about that now!

The edge of the woods came near. The gray streets of the town loomed before her. Mira stopped her singing. A few of the birds were scared by the sight and flew back. Who wouldn't be, when vehicles make the air smell funny and there's all sorts of big creatures walking around everywhere who either want to shoo you away or smother you in pets?

Mira stepped out into the empty street. She was aware of every crack and broken-off piece of the aging street, but the wooden soles of her stump-feet protected her. There wasn't a soul to be seen on the pavement or sidewalk in any direction beneath the light of the street lamps. It would've been funny to scare some people, but maybe she could do so another time. Looking at the street signs, she let out a chuckle. Without planning to, she managed to come out of the forest at the side closest to her house -- a few blocks away, in fact. She decided she would visit her old home.

Mira felt unsteady while heading down the hill. Her roots squirmed around the surface of the sidewalk, looking for dirt that wasn't there. She was afraid she would fall over forward again, especially now that the slope meant she would keep rolling uncontrollably until she hit something. Not wanting to leave large tree-footprints in people's lawns either, she slowed her stride. The birds flying around her gradually quit their singing and flew away until there was only one left when she arrived home.

The lights of her house were off, just like all the others on the street. The grass wasn't obscenely long and the mailbox wasn't bursting; however long she was just a tree must not have been very long. All the windows were still in one piece, and the front and back doors were still locked and untouched. Good -- everything would be where she had left it. She took the spare key she kept hidden under a rock in the backyard and unlocked the door.

Getting inside was a struggle. The puny doorframe was too small for her larger size. She could clear the top by bending forward -- again, sparking her fear of falling over; at least all the walls and furniture could break her fall this time -- but there was nothing she could do about clearing the sides. Her bough was simply too big, but she just might be able to squeeze though... Gripping the sides with her hands, she dragged herself through inch by inch. Her branches groaned and bent, scraping the frame as they resisted. Horrible screeching filled the night air. The last bird flew away from the cacophony.

The last of Mira's branches let out a fwoomph as they flexed back to their normal shape. If it weren't for her iron grip on the doorframe, she would have flown into a table. Good thing the roughness of her bark helped with the grip! There was barely enough room for her to stand up straight; the ceiling pressed down on her sore and aching bough.

She would need to do it all over again to get to the next room, and the next after that, and the next after that. Once she got into her bedroom, her poor branches screamed when they brushed against the ceiling. She pulled out her large computer chair, sat down, and leaned back. The back of the chair creaked and popped, though, so she had to sit upright instead, which caused the top of her bough to scratch against the ceiling and rudely remind her of how sore it was. Mira couldn't win, but this was better at least.

Mira reached for her phone only to remember that it was not only dead but not even in the house and would probably never be found again. Instead, she wheeled the chair over to her computer. It was off, though, and she didn't want to get up to reach the switch on the power supply on the back of the case. So, she extended out a root -- actually multiple roots, due to her lack of dexterity with her feet -- bent it around the corner, felt for the switch, and flicked it on. The fan next to it blew at full speed for a second as the computer turned on. She smiled as it blew her roots off the case.

After her computer finished starting up and she logged in, she considered messaging a few friends to tell them what happened and why she had been missing. However, any sort of account would be incredible and hard to believe, so she decided she would pay them a visit once the sun was back up. Then is when she would have her chance to scare some people. She chuckled at what their reactions would be. Humans can be so silly... Huh? I am one. Or, well, was.

Mira spent the next few hours going back and forth between watching videos and catching up on notifications on various websites. Unfortunately, she had to use a pair of speakers for sound instead of her headset; she didn't exactly have a top side of her head anymore to rest it on, and putting it on any other way resulted in it sliding down her trunk. Finally, she began to feel drowsy. Turning off the monitor, she stood up, grateful that her bough wasn't hurting anymore as it was smashed against the ceiling, and walked over to her bed.

It was almost cute seeing how small it was. While comfortably large while she was still a human, the bed was now a tiny thing that looked as if it would collapse under her weight. There was only one way to find out. After she dragged it out of the corner and set it in the middle of the room so she had room for her branches, Mira tipped over onto the mattress, yelling "Timber!" while sinking into it. Muffled ripping signaled that the bedding tore in at least one place from the strain.

Rainfall started outside the house. Meanwhile, Mira tossed and turned, unable to get to sleep. Her bough extended past one end of the bed, branches scraping against the floor as she flipped over, and the stumps that were her legs hung off the other end. The blankets, too small to be of any use, lay ridden with holes on the floor. Anyway, she didn't have any body heat to keep in anymore and shifting them across her bark had pretty much the same effect as sliding a paper towel across sandpaper.

Mira's unrest increased with the rainfall. She could not find any comfortable position to stay in for long. Valuable time was being wasted; she'd like to have a good night's rest before going to... nowhere, actually. That's right, there's no rush anymore, no job to contend with. Still, it would be nice to get some sleep. She felt more and more drained, physically and mentally, as sleep eluded her. All the while, the pittering and pattering of the downpour called to her.

Then, it hit her. She wasn't thinking enough like a tree. Trees don't sleep lying down; lying down was for the dead. Her roots would support her while she slept; needing something to rest on was for the animals that skittered around everywhere. The only problem was that she was trapped in her own home. Each doorframe she passed through while getting inside was flared inwards from the stress of her branches, which would make getting out a more difficult task. She didn't care, though. She needed sleep.

Dragging her feet across the floor, Mira reached out with her branch-arms and gripped the doorframe as she had before. Then, she began feeding herself through inch by inch, grimacing in anticipation of the pain.

Dust clouded the air as the wall and frame broke apart, weakened from before. Debris dirtied the hallway floor. There was now a Mira-shaped hole in the wall behind her. She should have been irritated at the mess she had caused, but she wasn't. That scared her somewhat. Trees might not have possessions they cared about, but Mira sure did.

The trail of destruction lasted until she reached the exit, which survived the initial passthrough much more soundly. She swung the door open toward her, letting the full might of the rain lure her out. As she forced herself through, though, her branches kept getting caught on the door. "Oh, forget it," she muttered to herself before grabbing the door and ripping it off its hinges. After she was done getting out of her house, she propped the door back up to try to keep the rain out. Nobody would notice the difference, right?

Mira stepped into her backyard, hearing the ground slosh with each step. Then, she stopped and stared up at the dark clouds. Rain soaked her bough, the weight of which hung over her, gently pushing her into the mud. Fat drops of water dripped down and streaked her bark, washing over her eyes and seeping into her useless mouth. For a moment, she wondered what her neighbors would think about a tree sprouting in their missing neighbor's yard overnight, but the rain washed that thought away before it could worry her. Her mind cleaned itself out, filling the emptiness with the sense of peace she could now find when she wanted.

She closed her eyes and burrowed her roots deep into the ground. She felt like a tree again, proud of the fact that they kept her stable, well-fed, and in the company of all the plant-life around her.

As her body absorbed food and water once more, Mira drifted into a peaceful slumber, unmoving, snug in the embrace of the earth.