Long ago, when the world was still young, Chuhaister felt a yearning deep within his heart, a spirit of adventure and exploration, which bade him leave behind his tree-spirit brothers in the forests of the Carpathian Mountains and seek new lands. The sun shone warmly on thick bark-like skin as his deep blue eyes looked eastward to the distant horizon, and he set his heart in that direction.
“I will travel that way,” Chuhaister extended his long branch-like arm and pointed to the east.
“That is far to travel alone, Chuhaister,” his brothers cautioned. “None of us desire to leave our forest home to go with you.”
“That is ok, my brothers,” Chuhaister smiled reassuringly and gestured to the top of his treetop head, laden with pinecones. “When I find my place, I will plant a forest of trees to keep me company. When the forest grows strong, some Old Ones may even come to live within the trees.”
Chuhaister bade his brothers goodbye and set off to find his new land. As his long trunk-like legs strode across the land, his beloved Carpathian forest quickly faded behind him. He marveled at the waters of many rivers as he sat on their banks and slipped his root-like feet into their cool waters. Birds came to rest in the branches of his head, flittering among the pine leaves as they told him tales of the land he traversed. Chuhaister made friends among the wolves, deer, boars, and bears who freely shared their thoughts of places he could go.
At long last, Chuhaister crossed a narrow river and came to a high hilltop overlooking a peaceful valley. Smoke billowed up from fires in small huts that dotted the valley, and he would sit on his hilltop and watch the people go about their lives.
At first, the people were afraid of the giant tree-like man and hid in their homes when he came down to walk among them. But in time, the people came to know the gentleness in the tree spirit’s heart, and they would dance with him under the moonlight. The children laughed and delighted as Chuhaister would dance and spin so fast that he became a whirlwind that showered the laughing children with snow. The people would bring him offerings of delicious bread and salt that he ate under the stars as he lay on the hilltop among the sapling pines. In return, Chuhaister would guide home those who became lost in the forest or warn them when wolves or bears were hunting nearby.
As the years passed into decades and then centuries, villagers stopped coming to dance with him on his hilltop, and those that did see him ran in fear, touching a hand to their forehead and belly, then the left and right side of their chest. Sometimes he would hide among the trees when the black-frocked men in the village led people up to search for him in his woods with wicked-looking axes and burning torches. A few in the village remembered the tales of the old days and left bread and salt for him on a large rock where he often liked to sit.
In time, even the bread and salt stopped coming. The number of people in the valley became less and less each year until the hearth fires ceased, and the homes sat empty and alone. Chuhaister loved the trees that had grown into old friends and creatures of the forest, but he missed the people who had become the most beloved of all his friends. He missed the laughter of the children the most.
One evening a fierce storm rolled over the mountains and hilltops, darkening the sky and showering the land with torrents of wind and rain. Great lightning bolts flashed from the sky, accompanied by earth-shaking thunderclaps. These things did not frighten Chuhaister, and he marveled at the might of nature. However, a lightning bolt struck the side of a pine tree, burning and blackening the tree.
Chuhaister’s mighty hands wrapped around the stricken tree, his branch-like fingers trying to soothe the scorched bark. Tears of sadness welled up in Chuhaister’s blue eyes at the pain felt by the tree. When he first arrived in the valley, this ancient pine had become an old friend planted from one of his pinecones. For long years they had talked together of the world through sun and snow, and a bond of love and friendship grew.
In the ancient ways of his kind, Chuhaister decided to save his old friend by merging his spirit with the body of the stricken tree. The dying pine protested that by doing so, Chuhaister would never walk the forest again.
“There is no one left to dance with any more old friend,” Chuhaister hugged the tree closely. “I would instead move only when the wind blows our branches than live in a world where your voice was forever silent.
Saying the ancient words, Chuhaister called upon the powers of Mother Earth to join his life and body with that of the tree. Power eternal surged up through his root-like feet and warmed his body until it began to lose shape, merging with the ancient pine until Chuhaister stood in the forest no more. Life surged through the old pine, and its wounded side healed into a coal-black scar on its side.
The creatures of the forest would often sit under the pine tree branches, rubbing their noses against the bark in greeting to Chuhaister. Crows would bring news of the world beyond, sometimes-terrible tales of wars and famines or big cities built high into the sky. Chuhaister was happy, and though he did not miss walking the forest, he still missed the people.
One day people returned to the valley with great wheeled vehicles that crushed the old houses, and they erected a building made of hard, square stones that rose higher than even the tallest tree. Chuhaister watched all this with great interest as the strange building seemed to grow in the valley. But no people came to live in the big building, and eventually, the people and their wheeled vehicles left the valley, and all was quiet again.
One spring morning, Chuhaister awoke to children laughing and playing in the valley. With great joy and wonderment, Chuhaister stared into the valley and saw dozens of children running and playing. A crow settled into his branches and told Chuhaister that the building would be a home for children with no parents.
Chuhaister loved watching the children playing in the valley; their small voices and loud laughter were like the music he had not heard in a long time. At night when Chuhaister would sleep, he dreamt of running and playing with the children as he did in the days of old. To his amazement, Chuhaister found that the children also dreamt of running and dancing with the wondrous forest spirit. He even came to know them each by name as they played in their joined dreams.
One day Chuhaister awoke to a small girl staring up into his tall branches. She smiled at the tall tree for a long time, and Chuhaister sensed she remembered dancing with the tree spirit in her dreams. Nastasiya was the girl’s name he recalled from his dream. A look of concern crossed the girl’s face, and she touched a small hand to the dark scar on the side of the tree. The voices of other children in the distance called to her, and she looked up at the tree and smiled one last time before running off to find her friends. Chuhaister saw that Nastasiya had left a small chunk of bread and a pinch of salt at the base of the tree.
Nastasiya visited Chuhaister almost daily, sometimes just sitting and reading or napping under the shade of his branches. Then one day, she brought with her another little girl and boy, who he knew to be Inna and Danylko, and all three laughed and played all day around the tree until it was almost dark. Soon, all the little girls and boys from Chuhaister’s dreams were coming to sit and laugh under his branches. He delighted to no end the sound of their laughter as they danced around the great pine, and Chuhaister was as happy as he had ever been.
One cold February morning, loud noises surrounded the valley, and smoke billowed up high into the sky. The ground shook so fiercely that Chuhaister’s roots trembled in the earth. Crows landed among Chuhaister’s branches and told them that a great conflict had started and that mighty machines of war headed to the valley.
Chuhaister could see the smoke from fires burning in the distance and asked the crows who had done such a thing. The crows looked from one to another but had no answer; they did not understand the ways of men. Then one crow sailed down from Chuhaister’s branches to the snowy ground below and made the shape of a “Z” in the snow with his wing.
Chuhaister did not know what the symbol meant, nor did the crows, but they had seen it repeatedly on the machines from the east. Then a sound reached Chuhaister’s ears, the children crying in their big square home. The tree spirit could sense the children’s fear and sadness, and his heart broke for his beloved friends.
That day none of the children came to laugh and play under his branches. Nor did they come back for many days as the sounds of the war came closer to the valley. At night their dreams would be fitful and restless, and when he visited them in their dreams, they would hug Chuhaister tight, pressing their tear-streaked faces into his bark.
Chuhaister awoke one night from a dream of comforting the children to the sound of machines crashing through the forest. He heard the cries of the young sapling trees as large wheels and steel tracks crushed them underneath. Chuhaister could see that the war machines with the white painted “Z”s on their sides had come to the valley. Amongst the machines, he could see hundreds of people moving about, destroying everything in their path like a plague of locusts from the eastern plains.
A great fear rose in Chuhaister’s heart for the children as he felt their terror echoing through his spirit.
“Old friend,” Chuhaister’s voice echoed through the ancient tree. “I must leave you and go to the children.”
“The ancient power joined us together, Chuhaister; we are one. So know that if you separate us, neither of us will live long.”
“The children are in danger. I must save them,” grim determination filled Chuhaister’s words.
“Chuhaister, I will give you all my strength when we separate. Save the children so they may laugh in another meadow one day,” the old tree’s voice held no sadness in its tone.
“Thank you for these years that you could have walked the forest instead of residing here with me my old friend; we will see each other again when the world is made anew,”
“Goodbye for now Chuhaister, it has been an honor to share this life with you,” the tree spoke no more after that and Chuhaister felt it releasing its hold this life.
For the first time in centuries, Chuhaister’s ancient leg stepped from the old pine tree and ran his root-like toes through the earth. The branches and trunk of the pine darkened and withered as the tree gave all of its essences to Chuhaister.
He looked back one last time at the pine, its voice now forever silent, and felt a sadness in his heart. There was an ache in his side, and his deep blue eyes took in the coal-black scar that now streaked his midsection.
In the distance, the rumbling of the war machines and the stench of smoke and flames grew stronger. With long strides of his ancient legs, Chuhaister began to run for the valley.
The war machines emblazoned with their white “Z”s were bellowing flames as they hurled their deadly wares into the valley. The earth erupted and showered Chuhaister with dirt and debris, and he could hear the shouts of men coming closer as he reached the children’s home. A scorched black star stained the front of their home, where an explosion had collapsed their doorway into a pile of rubble.
Chuhaister could see the terrified faces of Nastasiya, Inna, Danylko, and the other children peering out through the darkened windows of the top floor, some clutching stuffed animals close to their chests. The tree spirit sent them an image in their minds of being safe in his arms, and he could feel relief flooding through the children. He raised his great arms and lifted open the windows with his root-like fingers.
Fires and explosions illuminated the night as all nine children wrapped their arms around Chuhaister’s strong fingers and hands. The giant tree spirit lifted them from the windows and clutched them close to his chest as the children sobbed with relief in his arms. The shouts of the men grew louder as they spotted the tree spirit laden with children, and their war machines roared in response.
Chuhaister ran for the forest as the war machines hurled their deadly cargo at him. Trees he had known from saplings exploded into shards of splintered wood and earth. As he ran, he began to sing a song of the forest, an ancient song of life and growth unheard before by human ears. The song soothed the minds of the children who shielded their faces against his chest. Chuhaister sang of the trees he’s known and the animals he befriended as the winter wind blew past and the children felt their fears calm. His great strides out-distanced the men and machines, who gave chase, but the pain in his side steadily increased, and he knew his time was growing short.
Chuhaister ran to the river he had crossed when he entered the valley so many centuries ago and knew they would be safe if he could get the children across. The sound of the Z-men had grown fainter, but he knew they still pursued them.
When he reached the river, he stared in stunned disbelief. The narrow divide he had crossed had grown into a wide mighty river too wide for him to stride across. Chuhaister placed the children down on the bank and looked at the rushing waters. Nine faces stared wide-eyed at him, and he smiled back reassuringly.
Dipping his fingers into the river, he felt the current and knew it was too strong to cross, even if the pain in his side was not steadily weakening him. Then a smile crossed his ancient face, and he looked at the children; they stared back expectantly.
He raised one foot and then another, beginning to move faster as he broke into a dance. The children looked uncertainly amongst themselves for a moment, and then smiles began to cross their faces as Nastasiya joined Chuhaister in the dance. They jumped, whirled, and spun, holding hands and swinging each other around. The other children joined in until they were all lost in the dance, their laughter filling the forest. Chuhaister’s heart leaped at the sound, and his whole being filled with joy.
Chuhaister began to spin, faster and faster, as the children clapped in rhythm until he was a whirlwind spinning on the banks of the river. He suddenly stopped on the very edge of the river bank, his arms outstretched toward the moon and his root toes digging deep into the ground. The children gasped as Chuhaister slowly fell over like a great felled tree.
His long, outstretched fingers dug into the far side of the river as his toes dug deep into the nearside bank. Chuhaister’s side burned like fire as he lay suspended over the roaring river, and he could see the blackness of the scar had spread up his whole side. The children tugged at his legs, trying to pull him back, but he sank his fingers in toes deep into the earth.
Chuhaister sent the children an image of crossing the river on his back like a solid wooden bridge. They protested at first, but as the sounds of the Z-men in the forest grew closer, the children began to cross one by one. He held his back steady so none would stumble and fall until all crossed safely to the other side.
Nastasiya was the last to cross, with tears filling her wide eyes. Chuhaister’s arms and legs began to tremble a bit as his strength began to ebb, but he looked at the children with happiness in his deep blue eyes. He had danced once again with the children of the world and heard their happy laughter echo through the woods. In the distance, he could hear the voices of his tree-spirit brothers, long passed into the other realm calling to him and welcoming him home.
He felt gentle hands on his arms as Nastasiya and the other children stepped forward to lay their tiny hands on him. Chuhaister smiled as each of the children plucked a pinecone from his branchy limbs, holding it close to their chest. He received a last gift from Mother Earth of seeing the future, where each of the children was grown and safe. There would be nine new forests in the world from where they planted the seeds of his pinecones.
A smile crossed Chuhaister’s ancient face as he heard the voices of those forests sing out to him. Like a setting sun, his deep blue eyes faded and went dark. His grip on the banks loosed, and the body that was once Chuhaister slipped into the river. The children watched as the strong rushing waters of the river welcomed his body gently and carried him off with great care.
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