A. W. Epilogue 2 Re-upload

When the sun's light shone into the library the next morning, it fell on the two brothers who were still sleeping on the couch.  At some point during the night, they had shifted positions.  England had fallen over and was now laying stretched out on the couch as if it was a bed.  America was still on top of him, but he had moved around so much in his sleep, that he had somehow managed to turn himself upside-down.  His legs were propped up and resting on the couch's back, his back was stretched across England's legs, and his head and shoulders were dangling off the edge of the couch.  One of America's hands was on his stomach.  His other arm was hanging off the couch as well.  At the end of it, his hand still clutched the pillow with which he had fallen asleep.  

As uncomfortable as the position looked, America was having no trouble sleeping like that.   His mouth hung wide open as he slept, completely unaware that he was gradually slipping downward.  As he lay there, he suddenly jerked his right arm out to the side in his sleep.  In that sweeping motion, the pillow he was holding bumped against a pile of books on the floor, knocking them down.  The noise the books made as they fell caused America to jolt awake.  His eyes opened to a bright, fuzzy, upside-down room.  The boy only had about three seconds to gaze at his surroundings in confusion.          

"Wha…?  Whoa-!"

BUMP!

Before he could finish his thought, he slid off the couch completely.  His head smashed against the hard wood floor.  The rest of his body had flailed at the surprise of the sudden drop and caused him to do a kind of back flip off the couch and onto the floor.               

"Ow."

He stated as he sat up on the floor and rubbed his head.  What a way to wake up.  Then he rubbed at his eyes and tried to focus on the room.  His was still not fully awake, and his head was slightly dizzy from being upside-down for so long.    

"What am I doing in here?" he sleepily asked himself once he realized he was in the library.

His groggy mind was blank.  He didn't even know what day or what time it was.  He glanced over at all the books on the floor, then at England still sleeping on the couch, and then out the window at the sunlight.  

"Oh yeah," he yawned. "Guess we never went to bed."

He wiped at something sticky on the side of his face (it was actually drool that had slid down the side of his head while he had been sleeping overturned).  He stood up and stretched and yawned again.  He gave a drowsy look at England sleeping peacefully on the couch.  America was still pretty tired, himself.  He could have easily gone back to sleep for little while longer, but why go back to sleep when he was already awake?  Kids just don't understand why anyone would want to go back to bed if they are awake and the sun is up.  There was plenty of time for sleeping later.  In America's childish mind, too much time was already reserved for sleeping.  

"Arthur?" America said in the middle of another yawn.

England kept sleeping.

"Arthur?" the boy tried again.  He began to half-heartedly shake his brother in a sleepy attempt to arouse him. "Arthur?  Come on," he whined in a pitiful lethargic tone.  "It's morning.  I'm hungry.  Arthur?"

England just rolled over.

America stopped trying to wake his older brother and just stared at him.  That was weird.  England usually woke up pretty quickly.  America looked over at a clock in the room.  Almost seven.  It wasn't that early.  He was about to go back to waking up England, but then he remembered how late they had been up the night before and why.  England was normally an early riser, but that was only because he went to bed early as well.  America sadly backed away from England.  He decided his bother probably needed the sleep.  Besides, once he was awake he would only spend most of the morning preparing to leave, and America did not want to think about that.

America shuffled sleepily into the kitchen.  He would have to fend for himself until England made him a real breakfast.  Might as well get used to fixing all of his own meals again, anyway.  He saw the water pump in front of him and suddenly realized how dry his mouth was.  He walked over to the large sink and started pumping out some water.  He eagerly drank the cool water as it came out.  He put his entire head under the faucet and rubbed the water in his face.  His hair was all matted and sticking up, so he rinsed it out as well.  After he was finished, he shook his head over the sink like a wet dog.  Now he felt refreshed and truly awake.  He threw his head back and happily stretched one last time.  When he opened his eyes, he spotted the object of his desire.  On the very top of a shelf, there sat a familiar and inviting-looking round jar.

"Hello breakfast," America cheerfully greeted the object.

After taking a quick peek back into the library to make sure England was still asleep, he quietly pushed the kitchen table next to the shelf.  He stood on the table and reached for the jar.  The tips of his fingers barley touched it.  Adjusting to the situation, he stood as high as he could on his tip-toes and carefully nudged the jar closer to him with his fingers.  He couldn't wait till he was tall enough to reach it on his own!    

At last, he achieved his goal.  He hugged the large jar with both hands as he hopped off the table.  Excitedly, he took the lid off the jar, reached his greedy hand in, and pulled out one of England's large biscuits.  He stuffed it in his mouth without any hesitation.  So good!  He reached in and grabbed another one.  England had told him before that those biscuits were only for snacks, but America figured that eating them now would be ok just this once.  It was only to hold him until breakfast.  England would not want him to starve, right?  

The boy wrapped one arm around the jar and began aimlessly walking through the house while he enjoyed his early morning treat.  The biscuits were made with blackberries, nuts, and lots of sugar.  He wandered into the dining room and paused when he saw the table.

"Oops."

The table still held the leftovers from the night before.  America and England had both forgotten all about clearing the table.  America sighed and placed the jar on the table.  He figured he'd better take care of the cluttered table before England woke up.  England didn't like anything to be out of order.  Before he started, he shoved the British cookie that he was holding halfway in his mouth.  That way, he could still munch slowly on his pre-breakfast while his hands could be free clean.

He started at his own side of the table.  He stacked his plates, silverware, and his cup, and then he worked his way to his brother's side of the table.  He was in a pretty good mood as he added England's dishes to his own.  Having something in his stomach was giving him more energy, and the sun was shining brightly on him while he worked.  He could hear birds outside the window, as well.  It was a perfect morning.  He had almost forgotten that England was going to be leaving him soon.

Once all the dishes were stacked, he took a moment to glance out the window and admire the beautiful morning.  That was a mistake.  What had happened the night before repeated itself when it became painfully obvious to the guilty boy that a certain tree in the front lawn was missing.  America's good mood turned to shame.  The sweet biscuit turned sour.  America didn't even notice when the half that he had not eaten fell from his mouth.

America lost all motivation to do anything, so he put the stack of dishes back on the table.  He sat in a chair and buried his head in his arms on the table in front of him.  For the first time on any morning in his whole life, he actually felt like crawling into bed and going back to sleep.  Maybe he would wake up and find out that it had all been a dream.  

The boy moaned to himself as he sat slumped on the table.  Was he going to feel this way every time he noticed that the tree was gone?  He was pretty sure that England had forgiven him, but that didn't stop him from feeling guilty.  And yeah, it was only a tree, but it had been a special tree.  Now that it was gone, that would mean no more picking cherries from it with England.  No more helping England make tasty cherry-filled treats.  No more playing with England under the shade of the tree.  And no more countless other things that involved that tree.  America felt even worse when he considered something else: Would England feel bad every time he saw the empty yard, too?

America became vaguely aware that something was stuck between his teeth.  He didn't really care at the moment, but he still instinctively sucked on it and tried to dislodge it with his tongue as he wallowed in his self pity.  His mind wandered back to years before when he and England had planted it.  England had thought it would be a fun way to teach his brother about how plants grew.  After England had shown him how to plant and water it, toddler America had crouched down and watched intently to see what would happen.  He had been so disappointed when England had then told him with much amusement that it would take a long time for the tree to grow.

"But I want some cherries now!"

"You will get some.  You simply have to be patient.  Good things come to those who wait."

Every day after that, the curious boy had kept a faithful eye on the spot where the tree had been planted.  After days of nothing, America had started to think that they had planted a defective seed.  Either that, or England had been pulling his leg when he had told him that they could make a tree grow.  Finally, the day had come when America went outside for the daily inspection and found something poking out of the ground.  Anyone would have thought the boy had just witnessed something that had defied the laws of physics.  He had rushed inside and impatiently tugged England back out with him so he could share the incredible miracle with him.  He had hopped up and down with joy and pointed to his discovery in the dirt.  England had laughed at him for being so ecstatic over a tiny plant sticking up out of the ground, but the toddler had not cared.  He had kept hopping and dancing around the yard to celebrate the event.  It had taken a very long time for the young child who had still been so new to the world to get over his excitement and amazement that the tree was actually growing.

As the years had gone by, England had taught America how to care for the tree.  The two had spent a lot of time together with that tree.  Unfortunately, when America had gotten old enough to be left on his own for longer periods of time, England had had to begin the difficult task of weaning the boy off of his care.  England could not stay in the colonies forever.  He was needed in Europe.  That was when England had returned to his own home with promises to visit America often.  

America always felt lonely whenever England left, but one of the things that had reminded him of England had been the cherry tree.  If America ever missed England, he could always look at the tree and remember that if he was patient, his brother would come back again.  Now the tree was gone and America could not even do that anymore!

America was not going to stand for this!  There had to be something he could do to fix everything!  He lifted his head up and tried to think of something.  Suddenly, the thing in his mouth that he had been absentmindedly fiddling with popped out of his teeth.  He spit the minor annoyance on to the table in front of him where he could see it.  A seed.  Probably from one of the blackberries in the cookies he had eaten.  America continued to stare at the seed as his mind went back to wondering about what he should do to make his situation better.  All of a sudden, an idea struck the boy as he studied the tiny seed.  He jumped up from his chair.  Yeah…that might work.  He ran back to the library to check on England.  Still asleep.  Good.  America quickly, but quietly, raced out the front door.  He was a genius!  But he had to move fast.  He wanted his plan to be a surprise.      

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

England awoke a few hours later.  Like America, he had also been confused to find that he was sleeping on the couch.  Even after the events of the previous night came back to him, he had still felt out of place.  He could have sworn that he had taken America to his room and then gone to bed himself.  Had all that been a dream?  England took a look around the room.  Where was America?        

"Alfred?  Alfred?  Are you around?"

He heard no answer.  England stood and stretched.  He was about to search for his missing brother, when he noticed the clock.  It was almost nine forty-five.  England took a closer look at the small clock to make sure he had seen it right.  Was it really that late?!  England rapidly turned to exit the library.  Perfect.  Just perfect.  Now he was going to be late for the ship home.  

However, England was unable concentrate on his hasty plans for departure because he had caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye in the next room.  He halted and looked back into the open dining room where he saw the dishes from the last night's supper still sitting on the table.  Automatically, he walked into the room and began to collect them.

"Alfred!"  England called out as he worked.  Maybe he could get the boy to do the chore so he could get ready to leave.  "Alfred!  Where are you?!"

Still no answer.     

Honestly, the boy could have at least cleared the table before he disappeared!

He silently grumbled to himself as he gathered the platters and the bread basket in the middle of the table.  He didn't have time for this!  Why hadn't America woken him up?  The boy always woke England up in the mornings.  In reality, there was no need to rush.  It was not like the ship was going to leave without England.  It was his ship after all.  All the same, England was a very punctual person.  He hated to be late for anything.  

England went to gather his own dishes and noticed the stack that America had left sitting at the end of the table.  It appeared as if someone had started cleaning up, but had stopped for some reason.  England shrugged as he added the stack to his.  America didn't always have the best attention span, but at least he tried.  Then England's eyes feel on his open biscuit jar sitting on the table as well.  He grunted with disapproval.  

Seems as though he's been into the biscuits.

England jerked up the jar and added it to everything else.  He carefully carried it all to the kitchen.  When he came to the doorway of the kitchen, he almost dropped everything he was carrying.  When he got a better grip on his load, he stared in horror at what had once been the kitchen.

It was a complete disaster.  

Everything was coated in mud.  The floor, the table, the shelves, the cupboards, it was even on the wall in some places.  Not only that, but the place was ransacked.  All the cupboards were open.  Random items from the selves and cupboards had been removed and placed on the table which was still pushed against a shelf.  The things that had been left in the cupboards and on the selves looked as if they had been shifted around.  In the midst of observing the ciaos, England's shock turned to anger as his eyes picked out small mud prints left everywhere by boy-sized hands and bare boy-sized feet.           

"ALFRED!" England's voice shook the house.

The angered nation had to place his pile of dishes at the entrance of the kitchen.  He dared not enter the room yet.  He stomped upstairs and began his hunt for his younger brother.  When he could not find the boy on the second floor, he stomped back down the stairs to search the rest of the house, all the while cursing the boy under his breath.      

"That tears it!  I'm going to wallop that boy!  I'm going to hang him!  I'm going to string him up by his feet and chain him to the house so that he will never be able to wander off again!"

England's empty threats uttered in the heat of his anger made him feel better, but they did nothing to aid him in locating America.  The downstairs search was just as unsuccessful as the upstairs.  At a loss for what to do next, England ended up back in the dining room.

"Where the devil is that boy?"

England reasoned that if America was not in the house, he was probably somewhere outside.  Perhaps he was hiding in the apple tree again.  England took a look out the window.  He did not expect to see America sitting out in the yard in plain sight, but there he was.  The boy was sitting on the lawn with his back turned to England.  England had no clue what America was doing, but he would soon find out.  He marched directly to the front door.  While walking through the hallway to the door, England inwardly smacked himself for not having noticed the obvious muddy footprints leading from the kitchen to the door earlier.  If he had not been so blinded by his rage upon seeing the sullied kitchen, he might have seen and followed those instead of wasting his time combing an empty house.  Becoming aware of his momentary lack of common sense made England angrier.  He threw open the door, prepared to give America a piece of his mind and maybe more.                               

"Alfred!" England spat.  "What on earth are you--GAH?!"

England jumped back in surprise when America turned around and stood up.  The boy's entire front side was covered in dirt and mud.  The boy's white teeth emerged under all the filth as America grinned broadly.  

"Hey, Arthur!"

"What happened here?!" was all England could say.

"I fixed the tree!" America proudly announced.

"You what?"

"I fixed it!" he repeated.  "Well, sort of.  I planted a new one with a seed from one of the old one's cherries, so it's not the same tree, but it's close, right?  It's like the old tree's kid or something."  Behind America, where the cherry tree used to stand, England could see small mound of dirt.  There was also a bucket and a shovel.

England found that he could not do much more than stare at America.  His mind tried to take in what he was looking at.  He was flabbergasted.  He couldn't decide how he was supposed to respond.  He had come out there with the intention of confronting America for destroying the kitchen, but that was forgotten as he was now pondering how the boy could have managed to get himself into such a state.  He wanted to ask America about that, but what the boy was telling him started to sink in and he became curious about something else.           

"Th-the cherry tree didn't have any fruit left," England finally managed, weakly.  "Where did you get the cherry?"

"From the kitchen," America returned, happily.  

"Of course."  

England's mind flashed back to the muddy kitchen.  That explained a lot.

"Yeah, we actually had one left, can you believe it?" America enthusiastically went on.  "Talk about lucky."

England looked and his brother again.  Why had he not expected America to look this way after seeing the kitchen?  The question of how he had become like this was still a mystery.  

"I still don't understand how you managed to get so filthy."

America looked down at himself, and then back at England as if he had not seen anything unusual.

"Like I said, I planted a new tree.  Don't people usually get dirty when they plant things?"

"Not like THIS!" England exploded.  "Look at yourself!  You're covered in mud, you have leafs in your hair, your shoes are missing, and…what happened to your arm?!"

America looked where England was gesturing.  On his right arm there was a long, red cut.  England was already kneeling on the ground beside him for a closer look.  England wanted to take the arm in his hands and examine it, but the mud made him hesitate.  After getting the best view of it that he could from a safe distance, he was relieved to see that the cut was not deep.  It was more of a scratch on the top of the skin.  It looked worse than it was because it was a little swollen and red.  Once he was certain the arm did not need immediate attention, England looked back at America's face and waited for an explanation.  America was still staring at his arm in confused fascination.  His head was cocked to the side as if his was trying to translate a difficult code written on his arm.       

"I don't really know," the boy's words came out slowly at last.

"You don't know?" England questioned.

"I scratched it, I guess," America finally decided.

"On what?!" England pressed.  

"Mm-mn," America shrugged as he hummed his I don't know. "Something sharp?" he offered in suggestion.

England's head dropped in aggravation.  He rubbed his temples and stood up.  He decided to start from the beginning again.

"How exactly did you go about planting this seed?" he asked with tension in his voice.

"Well…" the boy enthusiastically began.  He looked as if it would be his greatest pleasure to recount his awesome adventure for an audience.  "First I had to dig up the old tree's stump and roots.  That probably got me a little dirty, I guess, but you would not believe how big the tree's roots were.  I had to dig a HUGE hole to get it all out," here he spread his arms wide to illustrate the hole.  "And it was just a little tree!"  England noticed as America held out his hands that a few blisters were starting to form on the boys palms.  Were those from digging and pulling up the roots?  "Then I had to refill the hole with some good soil," America went on.  "I had to find just the right dirt, so I took the bucket and went looking for some," at this point, he pointed to an empty (also mud-covered) bucket lying on the ground.  "That took a lot longer than I thought it would."  He looked a little sheepish as he carefully worded his next sentence: "Because…I guess I got a little…sidetracked."

"Croak"

America and England froze.  England felt a growing uneasy feeling.  He cautiously peered down in the direction the sound had come from.  He saw one of America's wet and muddy socks on the ground.  The sock was engorged with a huge lump.  

"What was that, dare I ask?" England spoke as if he already knew he wasn't going to like the answer.

America grinned.

"The sidetrack!"

America bent down and quickly produced from his sock the ugliest, fattest, squishy-est looking blob of green that England had ever seen in his life.

"Aah!" England took a few steps back in disgust as America held the "sidetrack" out to him.

"Isn't he great?!  (Or she, I'm not sure which)  But isn't it the biggest frog you've ever seen?!"

The frog's bulging eyes slowly opened and looked at England.  England fought his gagging reflex.  It was not like it was anything new for America to bring home small creatures that he had caught in the wild, but this frog (if that was what it really was) was by far the most grotesque.  The warty thing looked like it had swallowed a cat.  It was practically as big as America's head!  It just hung lazily in America's hands as if it did not really care that it was a prisoner.  It had long skinny limbs that hung down, and a wide face that seemed to recede slightly into the rest of its body.           

"I found it in a mud pit while I was looking for some good planting dirt, and I just had to catch it!"

England looked at the stretched sock on the ground and shivered.

"You kept it…in your sock?"

"I didn't have anything else to keep it in," America spoke as if his choice of transportation for his prized catch should have been obvious to anyone.  "I mean, my pocket was too small, and I needed the bucket for the dirt, so I came up with the idea to stuff it in my sock!  My sock's long and stretchy, and the frog can breath through it, so it made a great carrying sack!  Pretty resourceful, huh?"

Is that what he calls it?

England thought to himself.

"My shoe was pretty uncomfortable after I took my sock off, so I just took off both of my shoes and my other sock off too.  I like it better like this, anyway."

"So where are your shoes now?" England asked.  England had just realized that the boy's shoes were not among the other objects that were cluttering up the lawn.

America froze and stared straight ahead as if in deep thought.  Without warning, he slapped himself in the face.

"Shoot!  I knew I forgot something! Oh well, who needs shoes?  Anyway, back to my story…"

England moaned and rubbed his temples some more.  He forced himself to hear the story to its end.

"After I got the frog and all the dirt home, I filled up the hole.  I was ready to plant the seed, but that's when I realized I didn't have one!"  

"That's when you thought to look in the kitchen?" England tried to finish for him.

"No, first I tried searching through the old tree to see if there were any cherries left in it, but there wasn't any," America paused at this time and looked back at his arm.  "That may have been when I scraped my arm…must have hit a branch, or something…"

"Then, you tried the kitchen?" England tried to keep America focused.

"Yep," America nodded.  "And it wasn't easy, either.  I looked everywhere for it, and I had to be really quiet to keep from waking you up, because I wanted it to be a surprise," a look of sudden horror overcame America here.  "Oh shoot!  That reminds me!  I forgot."  America attempted to hold both of his arms out, but failed because he still had the fat frog in his hands.  "Wait," after wrapping one arm around the frog so it couldn't escape, he threw the other arm out and yelled:  "Surprise!"

For a moment, England didn't move.  He didn't speak.  He didn't respond in any way.  He just stared at the filthy boy posing in front of him.   After a short time, England put a hand over his mouth.  His face appeared as if it was frowning.  He started to shake slightly as strange sounds began to escape from him.  When England could hold it back no longer, he let his hand fall from his mouth…and he laughed.  He laughed, and laughed, and laughed.  Once he had started, he couldn't stop.  He hugged his sides and fell to his knees as his laughter continued.

America was caught off guard.  He put his arm down and held his frog with both arms again.  He was not sure what to do as he watched England collapse with laughter in front of him.  Was this a good thing?  It was weird, though.  He had never seen England go into a fit of laughter like this before.  He began to get a little worried when it didn't let up.

"Um…Arthur?" he bent down a bit and cautiously spoke to his brother.

England continued laughing, but held up a hand as if to tell the boy to wait a moment.  Soon, his laughter began to die down.  England was finally able get a few words out in-between gasping and some left-over giggles.         

"Forgive me…it's just…you are quite a sight…"

America stiffened.  Was England laughing at him?  After getting control over himself again, England rose.  Still breathing hard, and still smiling, he wiped some tears from his eyes.  He had needed that.

"Honestly," he shook his head in defeat at America.  "You are the only person I know who could turn something as simple as panting a seed into such an escapade."  

America frowned.  England seemed to be making fun of him and he didn't like it.  

"So what?!" he spoke out in his defense.  "I still planted it, didn't I?!"

England giggled again.

"Yes," he replied, wanting the boy filling up with righteous anger to know that he was not trying to offend him.  "Yes you did."  England reached out.  He put his hand on the boy's dirty head without even flinching.  He smiled down approvingly at the boy who had tried so hard to make amends.

"Well done."

America's frown slowly went away as he looked up at England.  He began to smile back.  Finally, America felt as if everything was back to normal between him and England.  His mission was a success!  Once the smile had been returned, England took his hand off of America.

"Now, whats say we go inside and get that kitchen back to normal?"

"Kitchen?"

England crossed his arms at the boy.

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about.  You left quite a trail while you were on your little cherry seed quest."

"I did?"  America thought for a moment.  "Oh," he said when the realization hit him.  "I guess I did," he looked up at England with a worried expression.  He had not meant to cause more trouble.  He had just rushed inside and searched the kitchen without thinking.   

"I'm sorry!  I was in a hurry and I didn't notice-"

England held up a hand and nodded.

"I know, I know.  However, you did make the mess, so you really should clean it."  

America lowered his head.  He didn't want to clean the kitchen, but he knew it was only fair.  At least England wasn't mad at him.

"Yes sir."

England smiled and motioned for America to follow him.

"Come, I'll help you," England decided to disregard the fact that there was a ship waiting for him.  Hang the ship.  He would make his way to it when he was ready and not a moment before.  Besides, England figured that he had to supervise America if he wanted the cleaning done right.      

"Alright.  Thanks."

America walked up next to England as they both made their way to the house.  England took a few steps to the side to avoid making anymore contact with the boy.  He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the hand that had touched America's muddy head.

"You could use a good scrubbing yourself," he spoke as he cleaned his hand.  "I think a bath is in order."

America stopped in his tracks.

"A Bath?!  Why?"

England kept walking without looking back.

"Do you even have to pose that question?"

"But I just had one the other day!"

"You should have thought of that before you dove into that mud pit."

America tried to brush the dried mud off of himself.  

"It's not that bad," he grumbled.  "Can't we at least have breakfast first?  My stomach's killing me!"

England was at the top of the porch by this time.  He turned to America.

"The sooner you and the house get cleaned up, the sooner you can eat," he called in a tempting voice.

America had no choice.

"Fine, I'm coming."

He quickly walked to the porch and bounded up the steps.  However, England held out a hand once more to stop him from reaching the top.

"And leave the frog outside, please," he pleaded.

"What?!  You mean I can't keep it?" America looked crushed.

"Of course not."

The boy held the frog up to England's face in protest.

"But it's a GIANT FROG!  How can you say no to a giant frog?!"

England slowly backed away from the warty creature.

"With incredible ease, actually."

"Aw!" America whined, but turned and obediently marched back down the stairs.  He kneeled down and put his prize frog carefully on the grass.  "You heard him," he grumbled to the amphibian.  "It's your lucky day, frog.  Get out of here.  You're free," the boy nudged back of the bulging animal until it took the hint and hopped away very slowly.  America sighed as he watched it hop beyond the fence.  It had taken him forever to catch that frog!  Now it was making its escape in no particular hurry--almost as if it was mocking America.

"Are you going to sit on the front lawn all day?" England interrupted America's thoughts.  With a sigh, America stood up and climbed the stairs to rejoin his brother.  As they entered the house, he looked up at England.

"You know, sometimes you're no fun at all."

England smiled and guided the reluctant boy to the tub.

"So I've been told."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Years Later:

It was early morning deep in the forests of America.  The sun was just rising and casting its light on the trees below.  One tree stood tall above the rest and caught the sun's light first.  Shiny dew drops began to slide off its leafs.  

All was quiet around the tree.  As the sun rose a bit higher, footsteps could be heard.  Leafs and sticks on the forest floor crunched beneath the visitor's feet.  Soon, the disturber of the early morning silence came into view.  A young man immerged from the surrounding trees and cheerfully strode up to the very tall tree.  Over his shoulder, rested a large axe.  He took note of a few old scars on the tree's trunk.  It looked as if someone had cut into the tree a long time ago but had not finished the job.  The man looked up at the old tree and smiled.  A gust of wind blew through the forest.  The tall tree's branches shook violently in the wind.  It almost looked as if the tree was quaking in fear.  The young man's smile grew.  It appeared that the tree recognized him.                 

"Don't look so surprised," he addressed the overgrown tree as he shrugged the axe off his shoulder.  "I told you I'd be back."

That day, the old tree fell.   

The End