Angol
My grandmother taught me to thank the plants. On Ahiʻkoa, the forest answers.
I came to the island looking for a flower everyone thought was extinct. Finding it could save my career. Then someone began clearing paths through the undergrowth for me, leaving gifts where I would find them.
He is enormous, built of living root and vine, with amber eyes and a body that belongs to the mountain. He remembers every leaf I've taken. He learns where I like to be touched.
I've spent nine years leaving places before they could become home. Now I'm counting the hours until I can go back to him.
But the rain is late. The old trees are dying, and I can feel their sickness beneath my own skin. The closer we become, the harder it is to tell where his pain ends and mine begins.
He has lost someone before. He will do almost anything to keep me.
I want to stay. I need him to understand that staying has to be my choice.
And somewhere in this dying forest, we have to find a way to survive it together.
