Characters: Meg Masters Location: Her Tree Time: (backdated) Thursday early morning Warnings: mild violence Summary: Meg is protecting her tree Status: Closed, complete narrative
Meg had taken up residence at her tree with little resistance. She didn't need sleep. She didn't need food or water. She didn't need anything except the tree, and she was content as long as she was close to it. Settling into the roots, she held vigil. As the minutes passed, and then the hours, the in the back of her mind grew stronger. Clearer. She could hear it now, and she knew what it said was true, and important.
Don't let them near me. Don't trust them.
At first, it was simple enough. Darkness shrouded them, kept them safe and secluded. But, as dawn crept over the horizon, and the town began to stir, Meg began to feel threatened. More and more, she felt tension rolling over her. Every human she laid eyes on was a potential threat. They were watching her, she could tell. They wanted to hurt the tree. They were going to try and drag her away and the tree would be left unprotected. Her eyes slid to black and stayed that way, a snarl curling her lips. She fairly growled at every person that came close. Her hands slid along the roots that surrounded her proprietorially. For a while, that seemed to be enough.
But it didn't last.
A group of women, intent on the bus stop on the corner, were approaching along the sidewalk. Meg eyed them with menace. Her sheer presence had been enough to drive most pedestrians across the street before they reached her, but the women didn't seem to notice. They were getting closer.
Don't let them near me. Don't trust them.
"GET AWAY," Meg shouted without warning, and threw her power at them. The women were sent flying backwards, head over heels. One of them smacked her head on the pavement, hard, and didn't get back up. A small trickle of blood leaked from her temple. Her friends shrieked and scrambled backwards. From all corners, their cries brought others. Early morning commuters, local merchants, curious bystanders, they all came to the sounds of panic.
Don't let them near me. Don't trust them.
Snarling, Meg began lashing out. Each person that got to close, she threw them. But there were so many. As the urge built to truly lash out, to crush their internal organs with her thoughts, to rip their limbs off with their bare hands, their survival instinct began to kick in. Grabbing the prone woman from the cold concrete, they retreated, leaving her in peace. If they'd gone to get help, she didn't care. As long as they didn't try to get near her tree.