She came to a high point in the mountains. Before her stood what looked like an old tree–she thought–with four bare branches sticking up from the low trunk. Nothing was budding on it which stuck out around the vast greenery. Her companion finally joined her.
“What is it?” he asked, eyeing the tree with “why are you staring at it” curiosity.
“Do you not know where we are?”
“Mt. Urafiki,” she replied, “The birthplace of the four kingdoms.”
“The Peace Branches?”
“They are dead.”
“Now they are the Moarte–the death of the four kingdoms.”
“So no hope?”
She looked up at him, “There is always hope.”
word count: 108 (Sorry)