A. Tree stood at the edge of the orchard, staring down the empty road. His baskets were full, packed tight with apples that wouldn't last another day in the heat. The road into Storyland was the only way through, and something had blocked it completely. He walked closer and saw it: a wall of mud and earth sprawled across both lanes. Water still dripped from the edges. Rocks jutted out like broken teeth. Behind the slide, he could make out shapes—people waiting, cars stopped. They were trapped on the other side, just as he was trapped on this one. A. Tree set down his basket and studied the faces across the gap. He could read hunger from a distance now, after years of watching. His eyes moved from person to person until they landed on a small girl standing near the front. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. She looked maybe six years old. The sight of her pulled something tight in his chest. He picked up the basket again and started toward the mudslide. The apples wouldn't wait, and neither could he. If he had to cross through the mud himself, he would. Those people needed what he had, and the girl with tears on her face would get the first apple before she even had to ask.

A. Tree stepped onto the mud. His boot sank in up to the ankle. He pulled it free with a wet sucking sound and took another step. The ground shifted beneath him. He steadied himself with the basket and kept going, eyes fixed on the girl across the gap. Halfway across, a deep groan rolled down from the hillside above. He looked up. The slope was moving. Mud slid over broken trees that had already fallen, coating their twisted branches. The whole face of the hill sagged forward like wet cloth. If it came down, it would bury the road behind him completely. The path back to his orchard would be gone. He had two choices. Turn back now and save himself, or keep going and risk losing everything. The girl was still crying on the other side. Her face was the kind of hungry he had learned to recognize years ago. Behind him, the hillside groaned again, louder this time. A sheet of mud peeled away and slumped down toward the road. A. Tree took three more steps through the mud and reached solid ground on the other side. He set the basket down and pulled out the biggest, reddest apple from the top. The girl looked up at him as he held it out to her. She took it without a word. Behind him, the hillside gave way with a sound like thunder. Mud poured across the road, swallowing the place where he had just been standing. The way home was gone, but the apple was in her hands.