It started to cool down in the woods. The end of summer was coming rather quickly this year, and some of the surrounding trees were losing their leaves already. The two old friends were standing right by the trail head; they had had the same spots since they were just seeds. A warm breeze blew from the Eats and moved their branches along with the nests sitting on top of them.
“Do you remember when people used to come here?” “Oh yeah… kids would run all the way to the top of the mountain while women would make food right here.” How many visitors did we give shelter to, how many crossed hearts did we get carved in our bark… Oh those were good times, weren’t they?” “They were, Oaky, they were.”
The two old trees were over a hundred years old. They had seen more than a century together. They had seen from the first planes, to war planes, to more war planes, and then countless steel birds carrying hundreds of people inside. They had seen entire generations come and go: parents and children, children that became parents, and children that became grandchildren. Every time something would change.
But families would not be the only type of humans that visited the forest. The ones with chainsaws would come too. Whenever that sharp and loud sound was heard, everybody knew that it was a synonym of death. Many friends of Oaky and Elm would parade in front of them all chopped off and ready to become drawers, bed frames, and coffee tables.
“I wonder when is going to be our turn.” “Oh don’t be so pessimistic. All in all there are still people that come and take care us. Also, they have brought new inhabitants.” “Yes, but they are so young. They’re just sprouts! I wish there were more of us left.” “Me too, but we still have each other and, trust me, I won’t be moving anyway.” Both trees laughed at that last silly joke. Actually, they laughed so hard that all the nests moved on their respective branches, getting a complain from their tenants in return.
The next morning there it was: The sound of doom. This time the men were coming for them. “It’s been an honor to share over a century with you, my friend.” “Same here, my dear Elm. Goodbye.” When Oaky felt the sharp pain caused by the chainsaw, he just closed his tree eyes and hope not to hurt any of the young ones when falling. Elm tried to resist by making his bark stiffed and hard, but then the men threaten to burn him. He gave up and fell right next to his lifetime friend.