The forest was abandoned by the usual fauna that inhabited its realms. The storm that raged in the midst of the hundreds miles of forest poured an ocean of freezing rain. The thunder boomed and shook the soggy ground, rattling the weeping willows that stood defiant like an ancient army.

The weeping willow’s vine-like leaves were being whipped around in the violent winds, being tangled like long hair. The trees slowly intertwined themselves together, throughout the forest, holding hands in order to endure the storm.

And a small group of children slept in the middle of the forest while the sky doled out its wrath. The trees kept standing because they knew the moment they bent to the rule of the storm, the children would be the victims. The children slept soundly with a roof protecting them and the vines blanketed on them to keep their frail bodies warm.

The children knew this wasn’t the first storm or the last. But they also knew that the trees would stand proud and tall for as long as was needed of them.