H

“The Earth is made up of things that die. Trees that reach for the heavens for centuries, curling their branches into oblivion, before crumbling into the dirt like they were never there at all. Like it was all for nothing, all the growing and aging. Creatures that live for generations, some that live only for days, and yet the end of it all comes anyway. No matter who they’ve saved, who’s lives they’ve touched. The roots of the tree die, just as the critters that run over them and nest among their gnarls. The leaves turn to dust, the bark wilts. Civilizations crumble. And among it all; her.”