“Feel what?”
“Its energy.” He tilts his head back to take in the tree’s full height.
“Because I’m clairsentient?”
“Because you’re aware.”
I’m not sure what he means, but I’m not going to spoil the moment with a philosophical discussion.
“It’s a hemlock,” he says, inspecting the tree’s needles and the pattern in its bark.
I’m stunned. Hardly anyone in our generation knows tree names. We know memes and celebrities and songs, comic book characters and Twitch streamers; we don’t know trees. I can identify a maple and a weeping willow, but that’s about it. Maybe an oak if it’s bearing acorns. Sadly, trees haven’t figured much into my life. I grew up in a newly built suburban neighborhood where the trees were younger and smaller than me. Of the four little saplings planted in our yard, only one survived its infancy. I had nothing to climb, hug, or picnic under.
Leo smiles as we reluctantly tear ourselves from our new friend. “Do you think you’ll be able to pull leaves off trees now?”
“No way.” I give the trunk a farewell pat. “Thank you,” I tell it. “I’ve learned my lesson.”
We continue on the trail as it winds away from the river. When it gets too narrow to walk shoulder to shoulder, Leo slips in front of me to lead the way, pushing aside low-hanging branches and warning me not to trip on roots.
Meanwhile, I admire his rear view.
Abruptly he stops, stretching out a hand to keep me from plowing into his back. Peering around his shoulder, I see an enormous tree trunk lying across our path. It looks like it’s been here a while, long enough to have things living both under and inside it. Only a few feet off the trail is the spot where it was ripped straight out of the ground. It’s a violent sight. Muddy, grotesque roots reach helplessly into the air, looking like veins and intestines torn from a human body. I suck in a breath and turn away.
Leo asks. “Under or over?”
It’s a tricky question. Neither option is ideal. Seeing as it comes up almost to my shoulders, I doubt I’d be able to climb over it without help, but how dirty and damp would I get if I squeezed underneath it?
“Over?” I suggest. “But I might need a boost.”
Leo nods in agreement.
On the count of three, I jump while he lifts me by the hips, giving me just enough height to get my hands on top of the trunk to push myself up. I turn around to help him, but he’s already climbing up beside me.
“I like it up here.” I take off my hat to better hear the trees sighing in the wind.
“As good a place as any to take a little rest.”
Noticing the trunk is wide enough to lie on, I stretch out lengthwise and gaze up at the sky through the treetops. Leo drops his backpack carefully onto the ground and lies down too, so we’re head to head.
“Don’t let me fall asleep,” I say. “I’m liable to roll right off this thing.”
He chuckles. “I can’t help you if I fall asleep first.”
“I suppose eventually some other hikers’ll come along and make us move.” So far, we’ve only passed a handful of people on the trail.
“Probably.”
“But until then—” I sigh.
During our time in the woods, the cloud cover has broken up, revealing a bright blue sky. Bare branches sketch black lines and hash marks across it, marks that bend and move in the breeze.
Seemingly out of nowhere, Leo asks, “So have you been wearing the amethyst?”
“All the time.” I feel for it under my sweatshirt, but it’s slid around my neck and is trapped under my shoulder.
“Did you charge it?”
“Not yet. Avery’s going to help me with it tomorrow.”
