The Sentinels Flower, gleam and glow

He was confused, as most others would be, as to what happened in this place. She had seen it once before, back home when following her father one afternoon. He had taken her along the river, teaching her the ways of river travel: follow a river and you will find where you need to be. She found him silly, then, but here she was glad for it. They happened upon an area that went through a similar devastation as the trees in the now; the trees then were scalded, blackened by the lick of flames and plant life turned to ash.

Her father had told her then that the trees will scar--some will take a couple of years to close over and some could take decades. They will hold the memory of what happened to them for years to come, for others to notice and wonder. Solenya remembered feeling a sadness for the trees, for the destroyed land. Her father pulled her into a bear hug, ruffling the top of her head in comfort. He had told her, Do not worry, my sweet girl. Life will find its way back here. All will be well.

How she missed him, missed her mother. Her siblings, too. She gazed at her offering as she thought of them.

She did not forget his question, and returned to him, a wave of her paw to pull his attention outward. Look at the bases of these trees. Some are blackened; scarred, if you will. They hold the memory of a forest fire, one large enough to do much damage to these giants. My father once told me that life will find its way and, here, he was right.