It Giveth

"Red foot. White foot," said the talking tree. "I can't tell. They're both so close."

"That's right," I answered. I paused - was that actually a question? _No it wasn't,_ said Little Man. My head was pounding.

"So it says, and so it shall be." The tree was now mocking me. I knew it, and Little Man knew it as well.

_Cut it down. The stupid tree doesn't deserve to grow in this garden. He is arrogant and dismissive,_ muttered Little Man.

"I can be equally dismissive," I quipped. "Keep quiet."

"Child, baker, elephant seed. Trail not found? Green foot." The talking tree swayed his branches menacingly, wind whipping through his crusty, browned leaves. I was beginning to tire of the nonsensical ramblings atop half-truths and outright lies. My head hurt enough with Little Man constantly grumbling in the background of every thought - now this damned tree was yet another obstacle in my way.

_You're never getting to the Golden Path._

Ignoring Little Man, I reached into my satchel. This ends now, tree.