The trees bend down with swishing sounds, as if trying to tell me something. I am reminded of the TED talk, which gave an account of how trees talk, and even dole out advice to the younger ones.
The sight of a wooden sculpture in the middle of the forest stops me in my tracks. Closer inspection reveals that it is an aborted attempt to steal the wood by poachers. I am the Forest Ranger, and I need to act. I had heard about poaching in this part, but hadn’t expected a case to greet me on my first day of reporting.
I bow in gratitude to the trees, who let me know that one of their kin has been nearly murdered. I feel safer in the company of flora and fauna.
My father was murdered when I was five years old, and we found the body after ten days. I still carry the wound within . I hope I can salvage the tree, since the roots are intact.