She sits in her tiny hollow, thinking. Her tree is one of the tallest in this grey forest; for this, she is thankful. She glances to the sky for some sign, hint or inspiration. There are no stars. They never show. With each new tree, the sky becomes more and more obscured. It is at night that she feels most trapped.
During the day, she helps. She helps others make sure they have enough squirreled away for the winter, or for the summer. She helps them make choices, important choices. She wishes she had been offered help.
Perhaps she had been. Perhaps she had ignored it. Curiosity chose the leafy path for her, but it was not Curiosity that propelled her. She alone walked there, and so she alone had to choose. The end was the same. That was not her choice. She had only choose the means.
She sits, reminiscing. Her tiny hollow is now long past, replaced by a spacious burrow. The forest, too, is no more; the open, grassy field is her new domain. Children scuttle past her feet. She sits them down, and talks.
‘Listen,’ she says. Before she continues, a sigh. ‘Life gives you choices, lots of choices. I am here today because of the choices I made, and I wouldn’t be here otherwise.’
Even as she speaks, she doubts. She had only choose the means but she knew, beneath the foliage, both paths were the same.
