had to evacuate my home due to wild fires, please excuse my poor formatting
Chris notices the sickly elms, the green fungi’s spirit pulling away from the skeleton of dead elms they puppet, as they strain to pull the halted line onward.
< Your proposal is accepted. We will hold our line here, until we most spread our leaves and branches once more. We demand what is ours remain ours. The machines must not feed from our fonts, or shelter under our branches. Renewal of Nature must accept this and not seek retribution against the elm. We have survived much, we will survive more. If a machine must enter our domains it must pay chimmage to the wisest among us.> The elm pauses, contemplating Tiny’s last question before responding with a near whispering rustle, <something we still struggle to survive>