Search for the Sunlight

Conscientious and proud of his profession, Harry F. Treewood was one of only seven brew masters in the entire forest. His knowledge and expertise in the art of herbal infusions was second to none.

In view of their genetic make up - part tree and part human - Treewoods, as a species, have little need for food. Instead, their day to day wellbeing depends entirely on plenty of sunlight and a steady intake of specially selected teas.

Blended from a variety of plant extracts, green, red or blue tea herb - depending on the mood - and a light golden resin derived from the roots of the Guerin Tree, when infused in boiling water the resulting brew tastes delicious and contains all the nutrients and nourishment required to sustain a thick covering of bark, rich green foliage and a healthy root system.

The world of tea was a competitive business and each of the brew masters had their own secret recipes. Suffice to say, Harry’s were amongst the best.

His unique formulae and extraordinary talent had won him cups and accolades too numerous to mention, but now, due to the extreme climatic conditions, the necessary ingredients were in short supply. As a consequence, his normally diverse and adventurous skills were greatly limited.

To compound matters, the tea farmers had predicted that in the coming year, the crop yield would be down by a further sixty or so percent. On top of the already reduced output, a capacious reduction of this magnitude would result in forest wide famine and loss of life on an unprecedented scale. Something would have to be done soon, or the Treewood community would be devastated.

With the proposed meeting all but forgotten, precious time, just like the fog outside, drifted slowly by…

From time to time, and for reasons unknown, Harry’s painfully slow metabolism would increase to levels beyond measure. When these odd occasions arose, he was able to function almost as efficiently as he had done before the sunlight disappeared. Now, it would seem, one of these rare moments was upon him.

With a wicked glint in his eye, the young Hawthorn leaped from his chair like a jack in the box and slammed the flat of his hand down hard on the surface of the old oak table.

“ORDER!” he bellowed.

His unscheduled outburst made the table jump with fright, which in turn jolted Basil’s woodwatch and, like a whirling dervish the little beetle inside sprung into action.

The internal movement whirred and clicked and at precisely the right time - which just happened to be midday - the cogs turned and the chimes rang out loud and clear. The subsequent commotion aroused Basil and Herbert from their dreamy twilight state.

“Y- Yes, of course! The meeting,” Basil stammered, sitting upright with a start. “I had almost forgotten.”

Harry smiled and shook his head. The truth was they had all forgotten.