T’akshlish cowers in the crotch of the Mother Tree as the winds roar through the valley.
She is terrified.
The branches of the tallest trees break and fly through the air, the lightning and thunder and wind making an unbearable noise that batters her body until she seems to disappear into it.
The Mother Tree groans and shakes and T’akshlish hugs it with all her might, her own trembling and the tree’s together.
And then it is over.
She pushes away branches covering her refuge and emerges in a new world of shattered stumps and slanting beams of sunlight.
An interesting take from the POV of the trees. Nice one!
Good metaphor for religion and clinging to God to save us in time of calamity.
I really enjoyed reading this story.
A very interesting take!
This is a wonderful take on the prompt. It seems that the Mother Tree protects T’akshlish from the storm even as she hugs the tree. Well done!