A. Tree's Arc

Chapter 5 of 6

A. Tree handed another apple to a man with mud on his boots, then turned back toward the line. The six-year-old girl stood at the far end now, behind at least a dozen people. She had returned. His branches trembled as he spotted her — the same shy posture, the same way she hung back from the crowd. He had crossed the mudslide for her. He had promised himself he would hand her an apple before she even got close, without making her ask. But someone stepped in front of her, blocking his view completely. A wooden cart piled high with baskets of mushrooms and berries sat between them, its owner busy arranging produce while talking to the person ahead. The cart blocked the entire width of the path near an old stone monument where the line curved. A. Tree craned forward, trying to see past it, but thick hedges had grown up along both sides of the road where the crowd had trampled everything else flat. The girl was trapped back there, boxed in by the cart, the monument, and the press of bodies. He could lose sight of her again. He could miss her a second time. A. Tree stepped down from the wooden platform. His roots ached where they had pushed through his shoes, but he moved forward anyway, walking past the people waiting in line. Someone called out behind him, asking where he was going. He didn't answer. He pushed through the gap between two men and squeezed past a woman holding a sleeping baby. The cart owner looked up, startled, as A. Tree reached the wooden wheels. "I need to get through," A. Tree said. His voice came out rough. The cart owner stepped aside without a word, pulling the cart backward to clear the path. A. Tree moved past the monument and saw her standing there, pressed against the hedge, watching him with wide eyes. He reached up to his shoulder, pulled an apple free — felt the bark tear, ignored it — and held it out to her. She took it with both hands. A. Tree stayed there for a moment, breathing hard, leaves falling from his arms. Then he turned and walked back to the platform. The line waited. But this time, he had not missed her.