On a strangely dark night of a strangely strong storm, a hot and sudden stripe of lightning struck the hill and sent a mossy boulder rolling. It galumphed down ungracefully, crushing forget-me-nots and smaller rocks, the first time in aeons since it last had to move.
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The boulder slowed past the bottom of the hill, but not before slamming into a beautiful pale willow tree and partially uprooting it. Her roots stood naked in silver moonlight, embarrassed and exposed.
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Time passed, and the two ignored each other at first. Lichen leathered the boulder's face, and the seasons dressed and undressed the willow's delicate leaves.
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Ever slowly, the boulder settled into the ground and leant in to the tree, and she would wrap her new roots around him. Embraced, they would survive greater storms and darker nights than the night they met. For as long as she could live or as he could resist cracking beneath the elements, they would never be alone again.
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