Reprise

An hour? Twelve hours?

I couldn't be sure. Time had stood still. 

All I know was that I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned again. The bed on the floor wasn't very comfortable. I was used to more luxury than this.

I tried not to think of Suho's story, but I failed miserably. In the end, I let my mind wander to where it wanted to go.

Gore.
Blood. 
Wolves tearing apart the people I knew limb from limb and sacrificing human body parts to a Tree. The Tree of Life. How ironic that this Tree reeked of death and Darkness.

A small painting of a tree swam through my mind. There were innumerable branches and just as many roots that had been painted onto a thick trunk. It wasn't a remarkable painting, but it was my father's favourite. It was rather dull and faded, but the colours had still been visible. My father had kept it, though I was not sure whether he had painted it, whether I had, or whether it was someone else altogether.

He painted a lot, my father. He had always wanted to be an artist. If we had as much money back then as I made now, he could have bought materials and art supplies for himself. I was hopeless at art, but Appa always tried to teach me. We painted many things, but I always painted trees. They were easier to paint, and I could paint them in any colour. When I ran out of things to draw for Appa, I could always paint more branches, make my trees bigger and more widespread. I could add any colour that I wanted to, and draw any kind of fruit or flower. A tear rolled down my cheek. After my father's death, I had moved back to South Kore