Page 76 of Together We Rot

Summer has bloomed from the ice; spun-cotton-candy-pink petals, sweet pea and butterfly weed, and all the other workings of the sun beating hard against the soil. The silence breaks into an orchestra of crickets and summer cicadas. Butterflies stroll lazy paths through flowerbeds.

I pluck a few stray flowers as I walk the route to Elwood’s tree. It towers heaven-bound, the tips twisting toward the clouds. It used to be menacing, but in the sun, it’s different.

The forest is alive with noise around me. Birds sing to themselves, calling out across the dense woods; chipmunks scuttle through high branches.

“Elwood?” I clear my throat and speak louder, shouting through the treetops. “I have cake.”

“I’ve been waiting for you,” a familiar voice replies behind me. I jolt, twisting around. Elwood walks into the clearing. This version of him has antlers scraping the heavens, his eyes wide and pupils less like unearthed gems. Ivy swarms his body like flesh. He approaches me slowly, and I steel myself as to not jump or flinch at his appearance. It’s taken time to get used to. I thought he’d grown into himself before, but I was wrong. This is who he is, truly, on the inside. His wings are a brilliant summer shade.

With each step, he transforms, becoming more and more like the boy I knew. The ivy washes away. Skin clings to bone. His eyes become a magnificent woodland green. He’s as close to human as he can be. He looks at me and I see the whole forest.

I don’t care what he is—I run to him, burying myself in his arms and accidentally smashing the cake in the process. “You dork,” I breathe, digging my nails into his back before realizing what I’ve done. “Oh God, I’m sorry, I ruined your cake.”

He swipes a streak of frosting off his cheek. “Buttercream?”

“Dad’s recipe.”

“Compliments to the chef.”

It’s so unbelievably normal that I have to laugh. All this time I was nervous, and here we are talking about something as insignificant as frosting.

“Shouldn’t you still be at the party?” he asks, a tiny smile spreading across his face. He looks more like a boy who dropped off a bouquet to his prom date than a forest spirit. I can’t tell whether it’s goofy or endearing.

The happiness drains from my face. Guilt takes its place. “I left early. I wanted to talk to you, actually.”

He clutches my hand, and his touch is so very warm. Human. The ground smooths under his feet, a winding path emerging before us. We take it, arriving at an empty clearing.

The air grows warmer with each step forward, so warm that I unzip my spring coat and tuck it under my arm. We sprawl out in the grass, eyes tipped to the dusty-peach sky. The sun dies on the horizon, bleeding out the very last of its color.

I should tell him my plans, but I hold on to the words a beat longer. Instead I ask: “What is it like in this new form?”

“I can’t describe it,” he tells me, turning over on his side, extending his hand out to play with a strand of my hair. “It all makes sense. I never felt complete before. If you asked me who I was back then, I couldn’t tell you. But now...” His smile returns, broader than before. “Now I know. I am the forest. Every tree, every blade of grass. All of this is me and it always has been. I never knew. This is my home. The forest has accepted me because I was the first sacrifice to offer myself willingly.”

I lean into the ground, nuzzling against the soft sway of grass beneath me.

When the very last of the light is gone, the fireflies emerge, shooting out in every direction like bursting fireworks. They’re beautiful, made even more beautiful lit against the darkness. They dance above us, not a single one of them straying outside the invisible enclosure. The place where winter ends and spring begins.

I want to return his smile, but a bitter question still gnaws inside of me. “Can you leave these woods if you ever wanted to?”

That wipes the smile clean off his face. He opens his mouth, but then swallows back his words. “It’s complicated, Wil.” I make a face and he tries again. “I no longer have a human vessel, for starters, and—”

“You’re trapped here, then?”

He shakes his head. “It isn’t like that. Like I said, I can’t quite explain it. I don’t want to leave. This is my home. It’s more than my home.”

We both settle into silence. He looks at me—really looks. Realization flashes in his eyes. “You want to leave. Is that what you were scared to tell me?”

“Yes.” Before all this, I would have shouted it from the rooftops. No hesitation. Always looking to the stars in my room and dreaming of the day when I’d find out what lies beyond this town. Now just admitting the truth feels brutal. My stomach turns from guilt. “There’s so much of the world I haven’t seen. I always told my mother that I’d...”

His thumb traces soothing circles against my cheek. “Do it, Wil. See the world.”

I shake my head—he might think his feelings are complicated, but so are mine. “I can’t take off. The business... you...”

“Your dad is stronger than you know.” His smile is genuine. “As for me, I can wait forever for you to come home.”

“You mean it?” I don’t realize I’m crying until he brushes away a tear.

“I mean it,” he echoes. “See the world, and then, when you come back, tell me all the stories. Tell me about every wonder of the world.” His laughter is warm, and it rolls over me like a summer breeze. He flashes me a wink. “And if you’ve got souvenirs, that’s better yet.”

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