The ground raised and buckled, shifting as the Mother Tree lurched,
tearing away from her descendants. Tangled roots emerged from under the
soil. Her trunk split open, her branches crashed to the ground. The
matriarch had fallen.
A large crater had formed where her roots once firmly grasped the earth.
The torrential rain continued to pour for days, filling up in the gaping
hole to form a large pond. When the clouds finally dissipated, a team of
the strongest fruit-pickers ventured out into the center of the woods to
survey the damage. Everyone felt the earth shake violently on the first
night of the storm, so none were surprised at the sight of the fallen
tree. What they did not expect, however, was a pulsating heat emanating
from where the trunk had split into two, almost glowing—as though the
tree was clinging onto life, shuddering as she took her last breaths.
They could not get any closer to investigate, as the murky pond water
had surrounded the base of what was left of the trunk. But from where
they stood, at the edge of the water, they could just about make out
what appeared to be a pale lotus bud emerging from the center of the
thick trunk. Its stem curved awkwardly, straining away from the body of
the fallen tree, dipping its roots into the pond tentatively.
When the news reached the rest of the tribe, some decided that this had
to be a bad omen. What would become of the forest without the Mother
Tree? Their harvest would suffer. Others were skeptical of their
pessimism. They argued that the lotus bud was a blessing. Perhaps it was
the Mother Tree’s final gift, a protector overlooking the newly formed,
and sorely needed, source of freshwater.