CHAPTER 16

THE PINE TREE

Roz was in no hurry to leave the tree. She stayed on her branch long after the bears had gone, enjoying some peace and looking herself over.

In addition to bite marks and claw marks, the robot was also covered in dirt, which, of course, meant it was time for another cleaning. She was making good progress when she felt something sticky on her arm. The problem with sitting in a pine tree is that, eventually, the tree’s sticky resin will find you. It always does. And it found Roz. The robot scrubbed and scraped at the resin, and soon her fingers were completely coated in the sticky stuff. Then it was all over her arms and her legs and her torso. And things were about to get even messier.

A robin swooped into the tree and began screeching and fluttering around Roz. The bird had recently finished building herself a new nest. It was a little work of art, a delicate basket woven from grass and twigs and feathers, and it was right above the robot’s head.

“Screech! Screech!” said the robin.

“I do not understand you, robin,” said the robot.

The robin continued screeching and fluttering, and then—splat—she splattered her droppings across the robot’s face. This bird was serious. So Roz scooted away, farther out on the branch, until she heard a quick, sharp crack. Before Roz knew what was happening, the tree branch snapped under her weight and she went crashing to the forest floor. She hit the ground hard and lay there as broken branches and pinecones and needles showered down on top of her. There was another splat. And then quiet returned to the forest.