The shiver of leaves moves like a wave across the forest canopy. I’ve come to recognise the language of the ancient trees. The message they are relaying is one of danger.

When I first arrived here, I knew I was finally home. I’d never fitted in anywhere, and here I am free of expectations. Over time, I realised the trees are alive. They look after each other, sharing nutrients beneath the ground, even between species. If only humans were so kind.

They communicate too. Those times when the leaves rustle when no breeze is felt, or bows creek on trees standing straight and tall. Trees only talk when necessary, something I admire about them, but now they are chattering, passing on the message of invaders—of people like me—attacking the trees, and bringing them down.

I head in the direction of the disruption. This is not a normal forest, and the trees are not as defenceless as they appear. There will be retribution if the humans don’t stop. I may already be too late.

The sun almost blinds me as I burst from the tree-line. It’s worse than I thought, a great machine designed to take down dozens of trees at a time. The remains of trees lie scattered around me. Not to be used. Maybe that could be forgiven. They’re stealing the land the trees once stood on.

“Stop. Stop.” The words are lost over the sound of the engine. I realise too late that it’s aiming directly towards me. It is inches away when the it stops abruptly. The silence is eerie when the engines are cut, my death narrowly avoided.

A man steps towards me. “What are you doing?”

“You must go. Right now.”

He sneers. “Are you one of those hippy sorts? This has all been signed off. The land is ours.”

Anger prickles through me, but I don’t want these men to die of ignorance. “The forest belongs to itself. It will defend itself. You must go now.” The noise in the forest picks up again. It’s too late. It is coming.

The sounds change, communicating my presence. I’m trying to save these invaders. I’m one of them.

I turn to the forest. “Stop. Please. Stop this. No more death.”

Roots of the felled trees burst from the ground, grabbing my arms, anchoring me in place. Cries from the men around me tell me the same has happened to them.

An answer comes back in my own language. “These men have killed our kin. They must die.” The Guardian steps from the shadows. They’re big, and covered in ivy and could easily be mistaken for any other tree if you didn’t look too closely.

“No more death,” I repeat.

“You are one of us, or one of them. Kill them, or never set foot in our forest again.”

The roots release their hold, and a wooden stake is shoved into my hands, jagged, with a wicked tip. The task is now mine. I walk to the man who challenged me, my footsteps heavy. Can I do this? My place is in the forest. The felled trees around me are my kin. I don’t belong with these humans.

“Please, I have a family,” he says, tears streaming down his face. “We’ll go. We won’t come back. I promise.”

I look to the Guardian, but they shake their head, their ancient features forming into a slow sneer. I face the man again. My hand is shaking. I’m no killer. I look again at the destruction around me. This man is.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, just loud enough for him to hear, and plunge the stake into his neck. I fall to my knees, the air filling with screams as the trees take care of the rest.