We Once Were Giants by J.E. Fishman

Author:J.E. Fishman [Fishman, J.E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Verbitrage
Published: 2023-07-31T23:00:00+00:00

That evening when they pitch camp Herbert removes the tree from his backpack and places it beside his tent for exposure to fresh, cool air, temperatures fortunately no more than low eighties on recent nights. Against all odds, the tree seems to have grown several inches under his attentive stewardship. A few leaves poke over the top of the plastic jar, a little droopily, he thinks, but greener than most naturally growing leaves during sere, when the rainforest canopy turns leathery and whole sections go brown and shed. Only a few species can withstand the extremes of fungus and sere, not to mention wilting heat and lack of frost. No trees that require a frost survive this far from the poles. In some patches, insect infestations and fire have taken the rest.

But Herbert has no experience with any of that. He has the tree he rescued from the man with the spray gun. He thinks of it sometimes as a person, sometimes as his alter-ego. He feels as if he has grown so much since his parents disappeared, and Tree has grown along with him. After the expedition set out, once he got his bearings and could tell no one would get angry, he carefully removed the tree from its container and added a few handfuls of soil to his improvised mixture. “Now you’re a real tree,” he told it. He remembers his mother once explaining how babies learn to eat solid food, and he thinks of this experience the same way. Opposite from the way mothers try to protect their babies’ faces from the sun during sere, he tries to expose Tree to as much sunshine as possible whenever he gets the chance.

Now, setting it down on the ground beside him as everyone prepares for dinner and rest, he wonders whether trees have hallmarks like all humans do. If so, what might this tree’s hallmark be? Is it that leaf on one side not shaped like the others? Is it the way it refuses to grow quite straight?

The men who run the expedition managed to find a clearing by a creek today. The soldiers unsaddled the horses and piled their packs in organized heaps. There’s grass two feet tall in the clearing, mostly dried to the color of cereal but still with some green in it by the roots. The creek still runs, although the width of its banks and exposed sandbars suggest that it may dry up fully before being replenished when fungus comes.

As Rafe passes around plates of warm stew, Anna and Paulette come trotting up.

“I sat on a horse,” Anna says breathlessly. “Paulette is teaching me how to ride!”

“Where did you go?”

“Nowhere yet. I just sat bareback, and we walked in a circle.”

“Did you fall off?”

“Of course not, silly. Paulette says I’m a good rider. Aren’t I, Paulette?”

“A natural,” Paulette says. “Not even a little tipsy.”

“See?” She gives Herbert a hug, almost knocking the plate from his hand.

They eat for a while in Anna’s glow. A bit later, Paulette reaches out and fondles one of the drooping leaves of Herbert’s tree.

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