The break in the barbed wire by the railway line was still there, and he squeezed through, tearing his shirt, not caring.
He crossed the tracks, barely checking to see if a train was coming, climbed another fence,
and found himself at the base of the hill leading up to the church.
He hopped over the low stone wall that surrounded it and climbed up through the tombstones,
all the while keeping the tree in his sights. And all the while, it stayed a tree.
Conor began to run. “Wake up!” he started shouting before he even reached it.
“WAKE UP!” He got to the trunk and started kicking it. “I said, wake up! I don’t care what time it is!”
He kicked it again. And harder. And once more. And the tree stepped out of the way,
so quickly that Conor lost his balance and fell.
You will do yourself harm if you keep that up, the monster said, looming over him.
“It didn’t work!” Conor shouted, getting to his feet. “You said the yew tree would heal her, but it didn’t!”
I said if she could be healed, the yew tree would do it, the monster said. It seems that she could not.
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