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He cringed at the gentle whump as a nearby branch released a clump of melting snow. Time was almost up...
Winter had been harsh but seemed to be ending early this year. The caravans had already stopped running and his was the last delivery of the winter. The crunch of snow and ice under his wheels had steadily turned to sloshing and he was still the better part of a day's travel from town. The horses drawing the wagon didn't share his concern, they didn't need to. Humanity seemed to be the only species affected by the changes.
His grandfather had been a child when it happened, when nature rebelled. Plants began to develop defense mechanisms that made most people break out in terrible rashes or pollen that had a greatly increased chance of severe allergic reactions… simply being outdoors became dangerous as even a falling leaf brushing against an arm could lead to such intense pain and itching the one affected often scratched great gouges of flesh. This often led to infection and, for many, death. The once annoying ‘allergy season’ quickly became terrifying as contact with the airborne spores caused throats to swell shut... Then things got strange.
Of course religious types shouted about the end of the world. Between mass suicides, riots and medical complications there was a sharp drop in the population worldwide. Now everyone lived in small barren towns, hiding from nature while the plants grew and only traveling freely in the winter. The few who somehow maintained a resistance to the plants cared for the animals that served as the sole food source and kept the greenery out of the town.
A few years prior they ran out of the plant killing chemicals that helped keep control, now they were shipping in large rocks to maintain an unfriendly environment for grass and flowers. Part of the reason for wagon’s slow progress was the weight of the slabs he was hauling, the rest was the early spring threatening to steal the last precious days of safety they needed.
He urged the horses to try harder, go a little faster. The high stone walls were visible on the horizon. The sun was setting slowly but the shadows seemed a little too pale, too sparse. It was melting too fast... When he left town the snow drifts had been high but now was beginning to see patches of dark, soggy leaves. That was unnerving enough but once he escaped the large trees of the forest and emerged to the thinner saplings surrounded by stumps that marked the edge of nature’s kingdom he began to shift from nervous to scared. Thin green blades of grass were peeking out around the leaves, tips just poking up from the sparse snow.
The heavy, protective clothing and mask that would prevent him from breathing anything dangerous were in a bag behind him but that was not the only concern. Not his greatest concern. There was something far more dangerous out there and as his fear rose he became hypersensitive to the sounds around him. Every crack of a branch, every rustle, every plop as another clump of snow dropped to the ground caused him to jump. He considered jumping off the wagon and sprinting to safety, still hours away at the pace the horses were able to manage as the increasingly deep mud pulled at the wheels.
Sunlight offered both dread and comfort as it neared the horizon and left him still barely within shouting distance of the heavy gates. He could see the movement of the watchmen along the top of the wall as they observed his slow progress. From his turns on top of the wall he knew exactly what they were talking about. He didn’t doubt they knew about the onset of spring, the danger involved. It was almost time to close the gates for the warm months. No caravans would come again until the plants were all dead next Autumn. There was a small but heavy door with a good seal that allowed access to the pasture where horses were tended and he might be able to get in that way but they really did need the stone on the wagon to help keep plants from growing within the walls.
The watchmen’s silent encouragement helped a little as he continued urging the horses on. But then the sun had set and the large doors ahead began to swing shut. Someone had decided there was no more time. He was so close! How could they do this? Panic rose, an acrid lump in his throat.
Turning, he caught sight of a shifting mass in the shadow of a large stump stepping out into the moonlight, the dim glow illuminating twisted branches and vines scattered with tiny leaves, dark hollows where the eyes should be. When the long, gnarled arms reached toward him with sharp clawlike fingers, he realized the truth.
It was too late... the Greenman was reborn.