Addison was panting, sweat rolling down her temples. Her hair insisted on crawling across her forehead, and she wished she had a hair-tie to get it away from her skin. She swore that it was cold, should have been cold anyways.

Hadn’t she wished for more sunlight when she sat against the queen's gigantic tree or was that a fever dream?

The last bit of vine pulled off the roots of the tree, and a few of her thoughts returned to reality. She looked down at the job in front of her; her knee was on fire, and her arms ached, and although she had gotten an okay length away from the safety of its home, she still needed a way to take it apart.

Even though one cut trumped two, she was at zero ways to accomplish it. Rather than kneel and try to tear apart the living thing with her hands, which she knew she wouldn't have the tenacity to do, she took a step back and sat down. The vine had begun its journey toward her so easily and gotten more difficult with every inch. The roots had been given more time to grow, and attach, and strengthen.

Meanwhile, she got weaker every-time her fingernail plunged. With a gasping breath, she laid down on the forest floor, cursing the fairies and their friends and their entire damned world. Her eyes focused on the treetops above her as her hands settled behind her skull. As hard as the bones were, it was better than bark and spur.

It would have been better had she not found the long edge of a rock that was jutting into her shoulder blade. She squirmed, hoping she may find comfort but to no avail. Now that she had become aware of the object, it was all she could think about. It did seem par for the course; shitty errands, dirty caves, sharp rocks. No realm gave her total solace.

“The human condition, aye?” she asked the silence and sat up to look at the ground where she had been.

She hadn’t looked originally. Had she, she would have seen the jagged thing staring at her, and she would have been more scared of a nice cut than a lump resting spot.

Addison blinked at the rock. Not sure what she had in mind, she reached out and let a finger glide across the top. It looked sharper than it was. It was no blade.

She leaned forward a few degrees so that she could attempt to pull at the thing. Some of it was buried under the dirt, so she gripped one hand on each side. With the little energy she replenished so far she yanked, and for her efforts, she fell backward. ‘

No digging was required, and it wasn’t all that hefty, so her weight worked against her.

Of course, she thought, letting a sigh come out through a clenched jaw.

The rock lay in her hands on her gut and was pressed with an uncomfortable ledge as she rolled over and got on her knees again. She could feel the damp dirt touching most of her back, covering the legs of her jeans, and her stomach was grumbling even louder than before.

Ready to be done with this was a severe understatement.

Forcing her limbs to stop being awkward and unwieldy, she pulled her rock over to the vine and settled in. Light as it was, she lifted it above her head, and ignoring her screaming muscles, she focused all her energy and swung down onto the vine.

As the rock hit the ground, it reverberated and sent a small shock-wave back up her arms and into her shoulders, pulling a low grunt from her chest. She tried to blink away the sensation for a moment and looked down at her handiwork.

Lifting the rock, she saw the vine — mostly intact. There was an indent where the rock had come into contact and the tiniest hint that it had done damage. Without another thought Addison brought it down again, grimacing as the shock wave came, and lifting the rock once more.

The second time didn’t fare much better than the first. Most of the thoughts she had at that moment were childish. There was no one to help her, no one to complain to, and none of the rest she had hoped for after her last few realm hops.

Her thoughts repeated endlessly. She couldn’t go back — couldn’t change anything, couldn’t do anything but get the damn vine and get up the tree.

She brought the rock into her lap, running her hand across the sharper edge. The point that had brought it to her attention.

Maybe it was more like a blade than an Axe.

With more motions than she counted, and her muscles and injuries screaming out to her, Addison managed to get a section of the vine free of its main body. Her fingers were numb, and they moved through molasses as she pulled apart its tendrils. There was something about the craft that may have been satisfying and relaxing if done in the sun or in front of a hearth. But in the cold with the sun running away, and no food inside her to give energy or comfort, it was miserable.

It went on for an eternity. By the time she had made her very first rope, or something that resembled one, she swore it had been days and she could barely see straight.

“The queen is waiting,” she mumbled and began to trace her way back to the path with a heavy limp and the rope sitting like an anchor on her shoulder. Her neck felt sun-burnt, and she realized that every inch of her felt wrong. If she was going to start complaining she would never stop. Her feet found the trodden dirt path, and she turned.

Aware of the vine and the damage it already did to one leg, she stepped more carefully near it the second time around. Soles of her feet slammed into the ground, her delicacy depleted.

By the time she arrived at the tree again, the whimsy of the world around her was lost on her, grating and punishment, and the sun had confirmed its disinterest in helping her succeed. She didn’t feel herself, she admitted. Not that it mattered...

She looked up at the branch, a few feet in front and many feet above her, and saw half a dozen fairies looking down at her. They wore curious and lazy faces, and it seemed fitting. It was the perfect face for a fairy to wear; big or small, part of the court or the cousins of the queen that barely fit the name. All of them looked at her — curious and lazy.

She pulled the vine off of her shoulder and squared herself. Unsure if she had the stamina for more, she aimed to get the thing over in a single throw. Her arms swung back, and then they swung over, and she closed her eyes and forced them to follow through. One hand let go, while the other held tight enough to slide down the thing, catching it just before it slid away from her.

Everything went in slow motion; like a moving picture shown underwater. But when she heard a humming, far away laughter, time returned to normal.

Addison opened her eyes and saw the fey had gathered around her vine, giggling in amusement.

“You only had to ask for help. The queen’s been waiting so long you know.”