They were practically the same tree, they grew so close together. From when they were seedlings, too young to be aware, to when they took firm root and gained real height, they were together. Everyone thought only one would survive, crowding out the other, catching the light and capturing the earth's nutrients, leaving the other to die.

Not so. They leaned apart and shared what light slipped through the canopy of older trees, and they entwined their roots such that the groundwater fed them both. After the decades grew them taller than the nearby houses, it became clear they were destined to be together. Their trunks had grown over one another at the base. They looked less like two trees than one tree split in two.

The trees had heard many humans talking over the years, which is why they understood these phrases on this particular day. "Signs of rot," they heard. "Angled toward the house." "Better safe than sorry." The next day came the lumberfolk, and of the two leaning trees, only one saw the end of that day.

It would prefer not to fall on anyone, the tree thought. But it would also prefer not to be alone.