Work Text:
He called her Willow, even though she’d never once spoken her own name out loud. Not in any language he could speak, anyway. He knew her name from the feel of her sun-warmed bark against his palm. He saw her joy in the ring of wild daisies circling her partially exposed base. Scott was careful to keep his gaze a little higher lest he accidentally catch a glimpse of a root. Cheeks flushing at the thought, Scott settled into a patch of clover and pressed a kiss to a tiny shoot just making its way skyward from Willow’s flat surface. He didn’t know her when she was taller, broader, a provider of shade for all who gathered beneath her branches. But he knew her now, and he loved her.
The tender shoot trembled. Scott cupped it in his hands and smiled.
“Shhh,” he cooed. “It’s all right. I’m here.”
Willow remained silent, steadfast, bolstered by the love she shared with a curious human.