The wind whipped furiously, howling through the gaps between Tim's branches as it passed straight through his body. The snow was getting thicker with every drift he trudged through, falling in sheet after sheet and getting caught all over his needles. He was thankful that the cold no longer meant anything to him, or he would be facing certain frostbite from even setting foot out here in the nude. The rest of the elements that were railing against him now were bad enough as it was. He moved slowly, pushing the pot that held his roots forward with one methodical hop after another. Frequently, he would find himself landing on a slick sheet of ice that hid just below the gathering snow, sending him sliding backward on his heels until he could find better purchase somewhere else.
For a human being, the route would not have been a difficult one. On a warm spring day, it would be a casual and not particularly strenuous hike, due west from Tim's neighborhood for a couple miles until the road took you out of the city and up onto the slopes of one of the surrounding hills. Even with his obvious shortcomings, Tim had expected the journey to be an easy one. And it was, at first. He'd gotten more than enough practice hopping down hallway after hallway, and a sidewalk wasn't any harder than that. But his progress slowed down when the road started its gentle climb into the foothills, and the last few hours of light before a very early sunset had slipped past him much too fast. Now the sky, along with everything below it, was growing darker and darker with every hop, and the predicted evening blizzard was coming in quickly.
None of that deterred him. He was so close. He only needed to make it around a few more curves, and he would find himself right on the edge of a clearing that led into the woods. Even in the fading light, he could see his destination clearly. But even if he wasn't the least bit discouraged by any of this, he was exhausted from all of it. The thought of turning back and going home didn't cross his mind, and neither did the thought that he might not have the energy to make it all the way back by himself. He especially didn't consider how difficult it might be tomorrow morning to pick himself up and walk all the way back down to the site of his appointment. But he certainly felt weak, in a way he never had before. Not sore, like he should from a workout this intense. Each movement was harder to make than the last. His body wanted nothing more than to stand perfectly still, and he was looking forward to the moment he could let it.
Tim wasn't worried. He had never pushed his tree form to its limits like this, instead maintaining his usual sedentary lifestyle - which fit him better now than ever before. But this was more or less what he would have guessed would happen. He figured he would need more energy in his body before he could move again, and he couldn't get it by sticking a granola bar in his pocket as he hiked. He needed nutrients, which were quickly running out of the fertilizer in his pot. That wouldn't be a problem once he got to the right spot and planted himself down in the soil. He needed sunlight - photosynthesis. Well, that would have to wait until the morning. And he needed air, to filter out the carbon and breathe out clean oxygen. Well, he had more air than he knew what to do with, threatening to blow him over at every step. He was sure that the long, cold night would let him recharge, and he would be ready to get up and go when the morning came.
His destination grew closer and closer, just as his jumps became more sluggish. His branches - which he'd learned by now to control so well that they reflexively kept him balanced as he pressed onward, as well as any human arms would - grew tired and weary as well. Some of them had started to freeze up - that is, they were literally coated in ice that stuck them into a fixed position. Soon, he left the shoulder of the road and started to veer through the snowy embankment that separated it from the surrounding fields.
From a distance, he could have imagined that the evergreen trees that lined the edges of the forest were just like him. But now, as he made his final approach, they grew taller and more intimidating in his bleary, snow-flecked vision. They varied in size, sure, but even the smaller ones were twice his height. Tim had imagined that he would be among peers here, but instead he was dwarfed by a row of giants. Damn. He'd come all this way, only to find that he still felt out of place. He couldn't help but wonder - if he stayed like this, would he grow the way they did? Year after year, gaining rings around the trunk and all the while pushing further and further into the sky? He forced the thought out of his mind. One night of this would be enough for him. It had to be enough, right?
With the little bit of strength left that he could muster, he hopped down the trail, looking for the spot where he would fit best. And as luck would have it, he only needed to go a little further before he found it. A row of trees that were just about his size, perfectly spaced apart from one another. They must have been carefully manicured that way by whoever owned the neighboring farm.
Tim quickly got to work, extricating himself from the metal pot he had been standing in. He wasn't sure how to do that, since he had never taken it off since he was changed, But with a little bit of thought, he started activating muscles he'd never felt before. His roots. They squirmed and undulated as he forced himself to crawl out, like a bucket full of earthworms. He was glad he couldn't see that under all the needles - just the feeling of what were supposed to be his toes squelching against the dirt, then shooting out of it several inches longer than they should be, was nauseating enough. But they got the job done, escaping the pot - which he inadvertently kicked away in the process, watching it roll back down the hill before getting caught in a snowbank - and then slowly settling into the ground beneath him. That felt so much better. For the very first time, his roots had space to breathe, to sink into the depths of the soil and pull out the nutrients his body needed.
And then there he was, rooted firmly to the ground, a tree like any other. He could finally stop moving. He could finally relax. The other trees flanked him on every side, and it felt just right. The snow, which had come down in such fierce bunches for the past couple hours, was starting to let up a little. Tim was already covered in it, his slow and methodical movements doing very little to shake it off. It collected all around the three ornaments he still wore, the ones that made up his face. His mouth had disappeared under the blanket of white, while his eyes were only partially covered, ensuring that he could still see. He looked up toward the sky, which was no longer full of flurries falling down around him. Instead, he saw the stars above.
Ever since he had been changed, Tim hadn't had any need to sleep. And aside from that first night when he had fainted from the shock of it all, he had never quite figured out how to sleep, either. The past two months had been a single, unending blur, as long and lonely days gave way to even longer and lonelier nights without ever taking a break. Maybe, although he wasn't exactly sleep-deprived, that had left him a little out of sorts. But he wasn't sure what to do about it - he was afraid to lie down, knowing he probably couldn't get himself back up again if he did, and sleeping in a standing position seemed impossible no matter how long he closed his eyes and counted sheep. So most of his nights were spent staring - at the TV, at his computer screen, out the window - and always wide awake.
Tonight immediately felt different. Tim stood and watched as the Milky Way spun above him in the sky. In the city, you could never see it this clearly for all the light pollution that hung around. But out here, every single point of light twinkled brightly, tracing its path through the heavens as the earth steadily rotated each one into and out of sight. He was amazed by how quickly they seemed to move, but he had no other way to mark the time that passed. The ground below was quiet and still. The wind had died down along with the falling snow, and all the trees stood perfectly still, including himself. Not a creature was stirring on the forest floor or skittering through the canopies above - not even a mouse. The stars were the only motion that could be seen anywhere.
Tim's mind was as clear as the crisp, cold air. The stillness of the night put him into a trance, and he didn't know if he'd planted himself in the soil a few seconds or hours ago. He was waiting, staring upward blankly, for something to change. The first light of dawn to creep up from below the horizon, perhaps. But the sky remained just as dark - and just as brightly lit with all those stars. At some point along the way, a few more clouds rolled in, but he couldn't remember seeing them approach, or the feeling of the flurries that fell out as they landed on him. All he knew was that his eyes were slowly being buried a little deeper, a little deeper, until the snow finally cut off his view of the outside world altogether. And that was when he slipped out of consciousness.