Long ago, a smattering of stray star dust clumped together in the middle of an enormous body of water. The land was rich with nutrients, yet nothing grew. It was too far from the spores and seeds of the rest of the world and so it remained untouched for many years. That was until a great storm hit. Torrential rains forced a group of migrating songbirds to take refuge on the shore of the waters. During the storm the songbirds ate and rested as best they could. In the morning, they took flight once again. 

            A young songbird by the name of Charlie was late to rise. By the time he awoke, the rest of the birds had fed and taken flight. In his hurry to catch the others, Charlie clutched as many leftover seeds as he could manage. Charlie had not realized how heavy the seeds would be once in the air. Exhausted, he looked below but saw only blue. Just as his young wings could no longer take the weight of the seeds, Charlie spotted the island. Relief washed over him as he glided down to the island’s edge. Safely landed, Charlie ruffled his feathers, releasing all manner of spores from the coast. He then ate his fill, scattering the remainder of the seeds into the moist soil. After a rest, Charlie began to sing. He sang and sang, and as he did the seeds began to sprout so that they could listen to Charlie’s song. 

            A gentle breeze blew and the sun shone. 

            “I must be off,” said Charlie to the saplings and sprouts.   

            “Do come visit us again. We love your beautiful voice,” they responded. 

            “I will,” Charlie promised, and he flew south to catch up with his family.

            Half a year passed and Charlie did as he promised. He visited the island and sang his songs. The plants grew with each note. In return for the concert, the sprouts and saplings offered Charlie shade from the sun and as many seeds as he could eat.

            Two years passed this way, with Charlie visiting the island and performing a concert, and the trees and plants offering a feast in return. During the third year, Charlie found that the island had changed drastically. A witch greeted Charlie upon arrival. 

            “Hello, Charlie. I’m Piper. I’ve heard so much about you,” said the witch. 

            “Hello?” Charlie eyed the trees and plants and saw that large branches had been cut from some of the trees. Eyes wide, he screamed, “Murderer!”

            “No, no, no,” Piper reassured. She looked at the large brown stumps where branches used to hang. “The trees offered some of their limbs so that I might build a shelter,” and she pointed to a small log hut underneath a large canopy. “I have brought new friends and good weather to the island.”

            “It’s true, Charlie!” exclaimed a nearby tulip, “Look.”

            “Come,” said Piper, and she offered her shoulder as a perch. 

            Squirrels frolicked in the trees, planting two acorns for each one they ate; rabbits hopped together, eating excess foliage off the plants; bees buzzed, pollinating the flowers; and a large cow trimmed the grass near Piper’s hut. 

            A patch of golden wheat and a blueberry bush eagerly greeted Charlie, “Welcome Charlie! You must sing for us.”

            Charlie sang. The plants grew, the wind blew, and the creatures closed their eyes, savouring the melodious music. 

            At the end of the concert, they all sat and ate together: Charlie, seeds, and berries; the squirrels, their acorns; the rabbits, their leaves; and Piper, a piece of bread with a thick smear of creamy butter. 

            Two more years passed this way. Charlie visited and sang, and the entire island relished in a feast together.

            During the sixth year, Charlie visited but no one greeted him. The plants had hardened and grown dense with thistles and thorns. The sun beat down mercilessly, as stumps were the only thing left where many of the trees used to stand. Squirrels dug furiously, looking for acorns long lost. A young rabbit peeped out of its den. 

            “Hello there.” Charlie approached slowly. He did not recognize the rabbit. It shook, eyes wide. “Are you okay?…What happened?”

            The rabbit disappeared into its den. 

            “Go away!”

            Charlie whirled around to see Piper charging forth atop the cow.

            The pair stopped short. “Oh, Charlie. It’s you.” Piper’s eyes were bloodshot. Her hands were scarred and trembled mightily.   

            “What happened?” 

            “Come inside, little one.”

            On the walk back to Piper’s cabin, Charlie noticed the ribs of the cow, bushes stripped of their berries, and the ground on which Piper grew the wheat had been scorched. 

            Charlie entered the small cabin. 

            “I am moving away, little one. This place is no longer a place for me.”

            “But what happened?”

            “I have travelled all over this planet and this island was the last place of natural harmony – until they came. They take and take and leave nothing for others, thinking only of themselves. There’s nothing left for me here now, nor for you. There’s nothing left for anyone.” Piper’s knife scraped across the porcelain dish, and she spread a thin film of butter onto a mouldy heel of bread. Her eyes clamped shut and her jaws clenched after she bit into the food. “The cow’s milk has gone sour. What little she can produce. I fear she won’t be here long either.”

            “I love this place.” 

            “I did too.”

            A silence set in. 

            “Piper?”

            “Hmm?”

            “Where will you go?”

            “You migrate to sustain your life. So too must I. Where? I do not know. Somewhere harmonious. A new planet. One that remains unsullied.” She finished her bread. “Protect yourself, Charlie. No one else will.” Piper stood and disappeared out the door. 

            When Charlie exited, Piper was nowhere to be found. All that lay before him was brambles of fear and hostility. Charlie did the only thing he could think to do. He planted a seed, raised his head, and sang.