After so many successful seasons, the tree and the Amanitas established a comfortable coexistence. The tree had many years left, decades if not longer, before it would disintegrate entirely, and the cycle would be complete. In the meantime, it was a safe harbor. That’s why it came as such a surprise the day a group of the oversized creatures came clomping through the forest again. All, except one, stopped only briefly to admire the spectacular display of fungus. It knelt down, unsheathed its knife and cut the largest of the unremarkable-looking Amanitas off its perch. It wrapped the startled mushroom in waxed paper and slipped it into a small brown bag before dropping it into a basket filled with other mushrooms. It wasn’t crazy about being isolated, alone in the dark.
The trip out of the woods was bumpy. The mushroom recognized the sound of crackling leaves. The sounds that came later were unfamiliar.
Thunk.
Whirr.
Wham.
Slam.
Then more motion.
Wherever they were going, it took a long time to get there. When they arrived, the Amanita, still muffled in the waxed paper and the bag, felt itself being lifted into a place that was very cold.
Was it possible? Winter? Already?