Search for the Sunlight
Chapter 7

With the aid of a hand placed firmly on each of the arms of his chair, Basil raised himself up and took to the floor.

Staggering on weakened legs, he steadied himself with one hand on the table and, with the other, he took his handkerchief from his pocket, wiped the cold sweat from his brow and began to speak.

“My friends,” he said in a weak and quivering voice. “As you are both aware, more than a hundred years have passed since my grandfather, left the forest, and set off in search of the missing sunlight. During his long absence, we have endured some of the most inhospitable conditions known to Treewoodkind, but in spite of these hardships, still we do nothing to help ourselves. Instead, we sit around idly, gathering moss, in the hope that one day soon, he’ll return from his travels, with news of a brighter future. But in truth, I fear, we can wait no longer.” Basil paused for a moment and looked at each of the brothers, to make sure they were paying attention.

“The forest is dying,” he continued “and, like the sand in an hour glass, time is running out.

I think we can all agree, that the hour has come for us to take control of our own destiny, and to face the fact that the likelihood of Charles S. Treewood suddenly appearing from behind a tree, or out of hole in the ground, with the sunlight up his sleeve, is at best fictional. For all we know he could be dead!”

Herbert sat upright with a start. Dead? Dead is a very serious matter, he thought. He had never considered his fate before, but now that Basil had brought it to his attention he realised that the precious gift of life, along with everything else he cherished, could be taken from him far sooner than he had considered.

While the trio sat silently contemplating the gravity of their predicament, a powerful rush of freezing air entered the room. With a ghostly whoosh the swirling mist cleared and in a bright flash of radiant light, a pale blue translucent figure, fitting a similar description to the one that visited Charles all those years ago, appeared before them.

The Treewoods stood in stunned silence, as the wobbly apparition proclaimed in a deep and ghostly voice, that the hand of fate had chosen them to follow in the old astronomer’s footsteps and deliver the nation from the brink of extinction.

The spectre remained only long enough to deliver its fateful massage. Then, just as mysteriously as it arrived, it faded into the returning fog and disappeared without trace.

Shivering, partly from the icy blast, but mostly with fear, Herbert spoke out.

“SCA-A-A-RY!” was all he said.

Humbled, and a little spooked by the spiritual visitation, Basil looked up through the hole that Harry had accidentally blown in his roof only minutes before and, as he searched the murky sky for clues as to the origin of the celestial messenger, the true magnitude of the task set before them began to sink in. He turned slowly to face the brothers and placed a firm hand on each of their shoulders.

“You know we have to do this, don’t you?” he said softly. “It’s our destiny.”

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