With three students examining the maple, everything starts to move.
As Armani bends down to check the holes around the roots in the great old tree, three cicadas and a muscheron climb out to meet him, though they don't see him at all. The three cicadas take flight, zooming upward into the canopy, and the muscheron shouts something in Mushkin, running toward its friends at another tree.
Cicadas start to wail, a strange summer call in early spring. All around, there's chaos. Students running for staff, coming close to see what's happening, shouting and panicking. Zelda Gunzenhauser takes three long steps back, her head craned to get a look at the top of the tree. Mouth agape, eyes wide, horror dawns slowly across her features as, on one side, dry and yellow maple seeds begin to fall, little helicopters twisting lazily to the ground, blown about in the breeze. The bark of the tree turns gray. Under Mary Grace's fingers, it's uncomfortably warm to the touch.
"What's happening?" Zelda asks—no, calls to the tree. Panic rises in her voice. "Tink? Peter?"
Cicadas start to fall from the branches. The memory stops again, bugs frozen in the air.
MEMORY: What Went Wrong
As Armani bends down to check the holes around the roots in the great old tree, three cicadas and a muscheron climb out to meet him, though they don't see him at all. The three cicadas take flight, zooming upward into the canopy, and the muscheron shouts something in Mushkin, running toward its friends at another tree.
Cicadas start to wail, a strange summer call in early spring. All around, there's chaos. Students running for staff, coming close to see what's happening, shouting and panicking. Zelda Gunzenhauser takes three long steps back, her head craned to get a look at the top of the tree. Mouth agape, eyes wide, horror dawns slowly across her features as, on one side, dry and yellow maple seeds begin to fall, little helicopters twisting lazily to the ground, blown about in the breeze. The bark of the tree turns gray. Under Mary Grace's fingers, it's uncomfortably warm to the touch.
"What's happening?" Zelda asks—no, calls to the tree. Panic rises in her voice. "Tink? Peter?"
Cicadas start to fall from the branches. The memory stops again, bugs frozen in the air.