“Tonight we sleep in the trees.” He glanced up at the one behind him as he wiped his hands on his shirt.
“What?” She coughed, choking on a chunk of bread. The tree was huge. “I can’t.”
He stared hard at her. “You can and you will. Do you think the forest floor is safe at night? It’s barely safe during the day. The trees are better. Not everything can climb.”
It was a long way to the ground and her balance wasn’t that good. “I’ll fall,” she whispered.
“Probably,” he said.
Did he think this was funny? She glared at him.
He smirked. “We’ll start low.”
His definition of low obviously differed from hers since the closest branch was about twenty feet from the ground. “I’ll break my neck.” She stuffed another bite of bread into her mouth and chewed.
“You should land on your feet. Your kind usually does.”
She jumped up, one hand still clutching her food and the other fisted at her side. “My kind! My kind! That’s all I hear from you. I’m also part Producer or have you forgotten that! I can’t do all these things. I can’t.” Her eyes began to water. She clenched her jaw. She would not cry in front of him.
He picked up a stick and began whittling. “Sit down and stop your belly-aching. You can do them and you will. More importantly, you have done them. You are more than a Producer.”
She sat back down. She’d always considered herself less than a Producer.
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