She cradled the faun's head. She listened to its soft breath, listened to its complaint, listened its petition. But what could she do? What judgment could she give that would hold in the face of her ever-shrinking kingdom. Every year she shrunk, every year there were more men, and every year there was less.

At night under the moon she called her sisters, who had all once been close, close enough to be one, but now far and spread. They came if they could, sent emissaries if they could not. They talked until the edge of the sun, bloated and red, crawled up past the horizon. And a course of action was decided upon. War.

Nature unbounded is a fierce thing, given time. But even faster, the edges of grasses became razor sharp, cutting through rubber and stone, metal twisted under the weight of unrestrained flora. Vines pushed through the remains of what was vast concrete deserts, flowers sprouted all over the detritus of humanity, using the reflected sun of a thousand glass windows for strength.

Humanity fought back of course, with cruel weapons and ingenious tactics. But ultimately, nature won. Nature always wins. You can't fight the interminable drip of water, it wears down even the strongest stone, washes away every trace. Wood and leaf and flower and thorn, these were the tools that all of nature used to reclaim space for itself.

A detente was reached, most of the America's as ceded as part of the agreement. With the exception of small outposts for trade and communication. Humanity was pushed back, and nature given reign. The prey and the predators ran through a land, free but not empty.

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Galen over 9 years ago

I felt slight allusions to Plato (But even faster, the edges of grasses became razor sharp) as the world of the real conquers the world of the illusions. Excellent writing.

X-Himy (joined over 9 years ago)

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Prompt

She cradled the faun's head.
Prompt suggested by Galen

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