Merrin de Caux

Dreaming Trees

It was five days since she last saw the green rush of trees beyond the highway. Somehow the vision receded every time she sought it. Something to do with the sun’s reflection on rock, maybe. Every bit of green had been sucked into a vast vault of nothingness since the cataclysm, but that cluster of green had been there. It was no fleeting mirage. She’d stared at it for many long minutes and the urge to run toward it had gripped every part of her thin body. But no, too much risk of being seen and robbed of her few precious tools.