A girl remembers her grandmama's advice for what to do in times of strife: take your troubles to the trees. She leans on this advice as she grows older, running to her secret tree and whispering her worries into its bark. She feels a kinship with this tree, as if it is an elder—as if it is alive. Legend has it that there used to be an ancient breed of tree, the Tree of Nations, that could walk around, following its people. But no longer. The new trees, though, perhaps lust for this ancient mobility, a lust the older trees disapprove of. The newer trees long to follow in the footsteps of their ancestors, much as the girl longs for her Grandmama.