Water the branches that sprout from your arms, said the King of Trees, his words seeming to form in xir mind. Water them, and when unwanted offshoots grow, prune them. They are part of you now, by my hand, and it is your responsibility to make them beautiful.
And as xe stared up at the terrible face of the King of Trees, xe realized he was right. After all, the same had happened to him. It must have. His arms had been wrapped in tree branches so thoroughly that they were impossible to see, only black, smooth bark remaining.
The only thing, in fact, that xe could see of his body, of what remained beneath the bark and the branches and the wet black leaves, was a pale white face that hurt xir head to look at.
And as the rain continued to fall on that deep, dark night, the branches continued to grow from xir arms.
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