Zavion felt like he was in a different world, climbing up the mountain.
Everywhere Zavion turned, there was a plant he had never seen before. A tree he had never seen before. He thought about the few trees lining the streets back at home that had fallen. He remembered the oak tree that split just outside his house. He remembered his house. The church, the street sign, the swing set at the park. All of it blown over and cracked apart. He wondered if anything would be able to grow there now.
Here—where trees had fallen and were dead—was the bright green color of something new growing out from underneath.