Hellebore

She took her time in the banana grove, noted bunches of fruit ready for harvest and where pests needed to be eradicated. Tedious, yes. But she treasured these moments. Her thoughts pruned of chaos and anxiety. This tree is healthy, that one is not. These bananas are too green, those are poised to ripen. Yes, no. Green, yellow. Up and down the rows.

She reached the edge of the grove and continued on to the adjacent Hellebore orchard. The ugly, twisted stumps had none of the charm of the banana trees. Yet she smiled fondly at the odd, fibrous plants. After all, they were the most important crop for her community.

“They’re coming! They’re coming!” She looked up alarmed at her little brother waving his arms at the edge of the orchard. He pointed beyond her, among the other fruit trees. Below the branches crept a battalion of soldiers, dressed in black, faces uniformly obscured by high-tech armor, respirators, cameras, and efficient, automated instruments of death held at the ready. 

She loosed the spray bottle at her belt, the potion it contained prepared for this moment. She sprinted back and forth among the Hellebore, misting the bottle’s contents over the contorted flora and recited, “Sun, wind, water. Axe, smoke, fire. Grow for the destruction which comes. Strangle the destroyer’s root.”

A lance of metal struck her shoulder and she tumbled to the ground with a cry of pain. The soldiers marched confidently closer. As her blood watered the grass, she whispered, “Please, please. Awake.” And as if they waited for a magic word, the Hellebore pulled their distorted, knotted forms from the earth. The soldiers stopped in awe as these herbal giants rose, their fear hidden behind technological masks. And the battle was met.