In the Center; A Hive, A Tree

The deer steps out of the treeline. His antlers are on fire. The entire forest is aflame, roaring with dry orange light.

Don’t go down there, says the deer. You don’t know what you’ll find.

His treebranch prongs starts to blacken, charred obsidian, his liquid eyes reflecting the firelight of the surrounding trees.

But that’s why I’m here. I want to see what could be.

Her voice is wavery, like she’s speaking underwater. The deer has come because she asked him to take her to the center of the woods. There, a gigantic dead tree swarms with golden bees. She can feel them buzzing, electric. She knows she needs to journey to the heart tree. There is something she must face.

She sidesteps. The deer lets her pass. Ahead, on the path, she glimpses a girl, running barefoot, her cornsilk hair a cloud around her head. She disappears among the flames.

Feet brush against the soft carpet of orangegold blossoms as she follows the child deeper into the burning forest.