Chris Mastree's Arc

Chapter 4 of 10

Chris set the donation box inside the greenhouse door. Their branches ached from carrying it through the cold. The metal felt solid and real. People used to care about growing things. Maybe they would again. Chris looked at the frozen books, the silent generator, the empty shelves waiting to hold something green. They needed to understand how life survived in the cold. The books would take days to thaw. Chris turned and walked back outside. If green things could grow anywhere, there would be signs. Even here in the frozen town, something might show them the way. The wind pushed against Chris as they searched the streets. Snow covered everything in white. Then, near an alley wall, a spot of red caught their eye. Chris knelt down on their root-feet. A small flower pushed up through the snow, its petals bright as blood. An arctic poppy. Chris had seen pictures of them in old books. They grew in the coldest places on earth. This tiny flower proved that color could survive where nothing else did. Chris touched the petals with one careful branch. If this fragile thing could stay vibrant in the ice, then pine needles could too. They just needed to learn how. Chris stood and walked back to the greenhouse, the image of red petals burning in their mind like a promise.