Spores drifted through the air. They danced, only visible in striped beams of sunlight. With millions released, a few landed in the right spot to grow.

Years passed.

The sapling became connected with the root system of its relatives. Their long, slow speech resounded beneath the earth for a few sentences a year at most.

The sapling listened to the stories they told. Some were of the land of sunlight, a place each tree would go when it eventually rotted and died. Some were practical, explaining how to invest their limited time and energy - whether to grow root or branch, or move on. A few stories were about the old trees, that remained only in their birthplace. The sapling’s relatives were not so limited.

The sapling’s favorite stories were about humans. Long, long ago, before the memory of the oldest grandfather oak, little furry animals climbed in their branches and brought them things they enjoyed. Humans were guides for trees before they could guide themselves. But one day, in that far off time, the humans all disappeared.

The language of trees was simple in its brevity, complex in the depth of meaning they were able to convey.

“Humans. Real,” the sapling spoke. Its pure faith shone in every syllable of its first words.

None responded, their harshest condemnation. It meant- you are not worth my energy or time. You are wrong.

Years passed. The seasons flickered by, nearly faster than the trees could perceive. Inside their powerful armor, they had no need for quick reflexes. The sapling continued repeating its simple message for all to hear, until it became an adult.

For the first time, someone spoke directly to the tree. “Roots.” Inside that word was a world of meaning. In the stories, this was the signal for adulthood. The tree had grown enough to begin to make choices on how to grow.

An elder was advising it to prioritize roots, to let it take in additional resources. After a few years growing roots, it would be able to move and seek better sources of sunlight and water. Right now, the tree barely had enough roots to maintain stability.

It sent back, “Humans. Real.” With all its heart, it wanted the care of the furry animals, to feel them climb in its branches and to be brought things to help it grow. It decided to take the first step to reach out.

It grew an apple.

Years passed.

None had spoken to the little tree since it made its decision. It was an outcast surrounded by silent family members. The first apple had long since rotted, and fell unconsumed.

It stubbornly continued growing one new apple a year, but stopped repeating its message about humans. It was embarrassed that nothing had happened, and beginning to doubt. Whenever it had a fresh apple on its branches, it put energy into growing its roots.

If humans could not come to it, it would go find them.

Decades passed.

The tree’s roots were thick as snakes and numbered in the hundreds. It was now a full adult of its kind, and still carried a single apple. It hung from a short branch near the top of its thin trunk. Most adults grew above as well as below, but the tree had put everything after the apple into roots, so that it could move as fast as it could.

A tree still only barely understood the passage of time. Thoughts were long and deliberate, and reached a conclusion only a few times a year. The day to day was controlled by reflexes, decided by those chains of thought. The tree had currently set its body to churn through the earth at a steady pace, draining nutrients and grinding up worms as it went.

The tree paused every now and then to communicate with the root systems of the families it passed. It only listened, not ready to share what it was looking for. Until one day, one of the strange trees spoke to it directly.

“Apple?” A question was unusual. In most circumstances, all trees spoke, and all trees listened. They had the same priorities, and did not hesitate to share helpful information. Questions were largely unnecessary, unless one encountered something truly odd.

“Humans. Real?” Deep down, it still believed. But it had been searching for its whole life and had found nothing. It got harder to go on. But if it admitted that it was wrong, it would have wasted a long time for nothing.

“Uncertain. Tending.” The strange tree reported that a few within their network had noticed dead branches disappearing without conscious detachment. It could have been storms, but no living branches had been taken with them.

Storms were rarely caught in action by trees, but they all noticed a sudden influx of water and broken branches.

The tree departed without giving a response, which was extremely rude. But it couldn’t abandon the first hope it had ever had.

One year passed.

The apple disappeared. Its roots never found it as they dug through the soil. Immediately, the tree stopped, and grew another apple.

It too, disappeared.

The tree extended its roots as far as it could, self-cannibalizing to extend their length. It severed half of the average length roots useful for movement and attached them to the other half, then began draining the nutrients from the surrounding soil.

It grew branches, and apples on those branches.

Every one disappeared, and the tree noticed water being dumped into the soil around it, with no other signs of storms.

“Humans. Real.” It was blissfully happy. Everything was worth it.

Decades passed.

The tree had managed to catch a quick flashes of humans climbing in its branches. Each time, it curled its branches toward them, wanting to show that it loved them. But by the time it reacted, they were gone.

It had managed to grow faster than any of its relatives with the help of the humans. Its trunk was as thick as a grandfather oak. Its branches were now more numerous than its roots had been when it was searching, and it had more roots than even that. From its crown to its deepest point, it was almost ninety feet tall.

The tree hadn’t moved since it had found the humans, but it had extended itself enough to contact another root family.

“Fruit,” it told them, now with a voice of authority. Some of them witnessed the big tree’s power, and wanted the same for themselves. Some chose to go their own way, just as the big tree had when it was young.

Those that listened grew new fruits of their own - lemons, oranges, and even green apples, putting a twist on the fruit from the big tree.

Seasons went on, and the other fruit trees grew, just as it had. But then, in a lightning-quick span of three months, all of the non-fruiting trees were killed.

The big tree was shocked. Could there have been some terrible accident? A storm that hit oddly specific areas, or a disease? No matter how it thought, it couldn’t figure it out. Then the other trees began to speak.

“Humans. Murder.” Enough trees were in the area that a few had been able to catch glimpses of humans with axes, killing trees. After that, pieces of the bodies had been stacked into squares, within range of the fruit tree’s roots. Humans were observed lying inside, frequently enough that they must be doing it for long periods of time.

The big tree fought the reports, retreating into itself. As it had done when it was unsure humans existed, it stayed silent and only listened. During this time, it put all of its energy into growing taller and deeper. Bark as strong as iron grew on its trunk, and roots moved closer to the surface, ready to move.

On one branch, high in the tree, remained a single red apple.

In a flash, the tree saw a human climb to pick the apple. It saw the human fall.

When it was next aware, many of its branches had been cut off. Only the thickest ones that had already been coated by the iron bark remained.

“Humans. Betray.” There was a deep grief in the voice of the tree. It had found everything it was looking for, and they had thrown it all away.

Years passed.

The other fruit-bearing trees began making new poisonous fruit. Most of them were cut down. A few had copied the iron bark of the big tree, and stood defiant, occasionally managing to kill a human child. The other survivors had enhanced root systems, and had moved away to spread the word of traitorous humans.

The big tree had been growing. The humans no longer fed it, but they had killed enough trees that the area was ripe with resources. Roots spread underground like giant snakes. One day, it knew deep inside that it was as big as it was going to get. It was a hundred feet tall above the ground. Its root system was twice as wide.

A single red apple still hung from its highest branch. It wanted the humans to love again. It didn’t know how to explain that they had done wrong.

It reached a final decision, and let its programmed reflexes carry it out.

Apples sprouted from every branch as a peace offering.

At the same time, it rose from the earth, carrying its giant body on impossibly powerful roots. It destroyed each structure the humans had made from the corpses of its family.

The earth churned as it moved, blood in the soil.

Years passed.

The giant found itself alone again, blindly digging forward. It was exhausted. The humans hadn’t been able to destroy it, though they had damaged many roots and branches. It kept destroying the corpse piles wherever it found them, and in the end, the humans had all left.

It tried to think back to how it felt to first find the humans. The very first time one of its apples had been picked and eaten. Was it worth it? It couldn’t remember. It was too tired.

A giant fell, and shook the earth.