Children of the Revolution

This is the first time she’s ever seen Lucas express a smidgen of concern. So naturally she’s going to comment on it. “Don’t tell me you’re a little worried. The great Lucas, concerned about some trees?” A sharp, but only slightly chiding laugh quickly follows though she, too, is already on her way back down their lookout point. While doing her best to make sure doesn’t step on his fingers (not that he’d feel the pain, she just doesn’t want to be clumsy), Wessex gives the question a quick think. “Honestly couldn’t tell. Seemed to be farther away, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a ripple effect or something that happens in a regular pattern.” It’s hard to imagine plants doing the same thing every night at ten o’clock, but it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing she’s seen. As a matter of fact, it could have already happened to them, trees rearranging themselves and closing rank behind the two intrepid night-explorers. The thought crosses her mind but she refuses to say it out loud, preferring to jump to the ground when it’s safe to do so and pick a leaf out of her hair. Now. Which way back…? WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm