Charlotte jerked awake and her eyes flew open. The rapid rise and fall of her chest grew stronger as she lay in bed, imagining the prowling fear-inducing creatures that could have woken her. She jumped again when the sound, the one that had actually woken her, tore through the early morning.

For a moment, she was paralyzed. A wall had been built around the familiarity of the noise in her head, but she had heard it before. It sounded again, and as if that was enough to physically break through the wall in her memory, she gasped a single word in recognition of the situation. "Trees."

In a matter of seconds, the 19 year old was on her feet, the entire world forgotten. With long, graceful strides that only a girl her size could pull off speedily, she fled her home in the direction of the forest. The noise came again, cutting into Charlotte's heart like the ax producing it. With every sickening pound of the weapon on the tree, she picked up her speed until she was sprinting, her waist-length silky red hair flailing madly behind her. She was getting closer, but she knew there was not much time to spare.

The girl's slim figure crashed through the trees emanating both fear in the way her delicate hands shook slightly, and courage in the way she walked, barefoot, toward a man she had never seen before. Her bold green eyes assessed the scene quickly. The man, who had not taken notice of her as of yet, held a once silver ax now spotted red with rust. In an ignorant manner, he swung it back with both hands, ready to strike the tree once more.

"Stop it!" Charlotte shrieked as he swung forward. The man hardly had enough time to spit out a twisted word of confusion before she had tackled him to the ground. Although old, the ax's blade was sharp, and sliced her arm open as they tumbled over each other. She hissed in pain, feeling a red curtain of warm blood slink from her arm. She only had time to glance at the wound before the two landed, her straddling his waist. She cringed as the tree she had just tried so hard to save came crashing down.

"What do you think you're doing?" Charlotte glared at him and nodded toward the ax in his hand, now stained with a thin line of her blood. The man gazed up her, looking a little dazed.

"Well?" she asked irritably from atop him, her eyes piercing his.

"Wh-" was all that managed to escape the man's mouth before Charlotte cranked her hand back and cracked it against his face, leaving a bright red tint after it.

"I don't even care what you think! Just... Just get out of here!" she crossed her arms over her chest and sat up a little taller, ignoring the stinging pain in her arm.

The man could not help but hide his chuckle, even if he was a little annoyed, at the sight of her on top of him wearing nothing but an old t-shirt and a pair of booty-shorts obviously used for sleeping in. His suspicion that she had just come from her own bed was somewhat confirmed by her disheveled hair and bare feet lightly skimming his thigh.

"Who are you?" he asked ignoring her stare and order, not only because she was sitting on him, but also because he intended to fight for his right to stay.

Although this was a generic question, Charlotte looked surprised to hear it. "I am Charlotte; I speak for the trees," she replied, a little too triumphantly. When the man turned up a blank, clearly impatient expression, she cupped her hand over one ear as if listening to a secret. She nodded once, then dropped her hand and flicked her gaze back to him. "They say that if you don't leave, I'll kick your ass."

This time, the man could not keep himself from laughing. Charlotte's eyes narrowed and an angry growl rumbled from her throat. The man held up both of his hands in a surrendering manner. "I'm sorry!" he gasped between fits, "I just- you're so cute and little!"

"Cute!?" Charlotte's eyebrows shot up briefly. As the man recovered from his laughter, she gripped his forearm and applied pressure to his wrist, twisting it into an awkward angle.

"Ow, OW!" he cried out in pain and she cut back a bit, never removing her grip completely.

"Yeesh! What do you want from me?" he asked loudly, attempting to tear his arm away. Before Charlotte could say anything, he held up his free hand and silenced her. "Other than to leave, because that's not happening."

Without hesitation, she answered "I want you to leave the trees alone."

"I'm not doing that." Charlotte applied pressure to his wrist again and he gasped. "Alright! I won't cut anymore down!" He moved to sit up, but Charlotte squeezed his wrist enough that he stopped trying.

"Promise."

"Why-"

"Promise!" she looked at him pointedly. He rolled his eyes involuntarily, but raised his free hand.

"I, the Once-Ler, do solemnly 'promise' not to cut down another tree."

Looking completely satisfied, Charlotte flashed the first smile she had all morning, and hopped to her feet. After a millisecond of consideration, she extended a hand to the man. Graciously, he took it and she helped him to stand. As Once-Ler wiped the dirt off the back of his dark grey jeans, vest, and white blouse, Charlotte turned around and began walking back to her home in the forest.

"Wait!" he called after her, adjusting a blue-grey fedora over his black hair. "Where are you going?"

Charlotte did not bother to turn around as she answered, "be seeing you around, Beanpole."

As the girl strode into the mess of truffula trees, the Once-Ler watched in admiration. She had only been around for a few short minutes, but she had already changed his entire thneed operation. Without a doubt, harvesting tusks would be a slower process if he could not first cut down the trees. He shook his head, trying to forget her smile. After all, he had meant what he said. Charlotte was cute; in every sense of the word. If only that meant she wasn't going to be annoying. He thought if she could just stay out of his way, she would be perfect to get along with. Too bad it did not look like that was going to happen. Still, her words danced in his seeing you around, Beanpole.

Charlotte walked back to the log cabin she had grown up in in silence. It didn't take long for her to reach it; in fact, it occurred to her that she could probably yell insults from where her home stood to where the Once-Ler was, and he would hear her. The old wood was rotting and split in many places. Mysterious plants from the unmaintained yard had started to grow in the moist cracks between logs.

She remembered once gardening in the yard with her grandmother. Now, passing by the weed-covered flower boxes, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She did not like to reminisce.

The old wooden door squeaked as Charlotte pushed it open. The dark greeted her from inside, forcing her to squint in search of matches. She grabbed them off an end table and slid the small package open, striking a stick against it. With a crack, a single flame flared up, covering the room in shaky shadows. The room filled with the comforting scent of burning sulfur. The glow brightened as she held the match against a blackened candle wick and shook the fire out.

"I'm home!" she called, walking around the room lighting candles. Her weight caused the old floor boards to groan as she made her way around. If anybody was home, the sound alone would have alerted them of her presence. Charlotte bit her lip, taking a minute to accept that there was not anybody to call back to her.

Nobody to greet her with a hug when she came home.

Not even anybody to help her bandage up her still bleeding arm.

There hadn't been in years.