I posted this on the AS story forums.. thought maybe someone here would like it. Hopefully it will go over better than my last poem in this forum... A small, sturdy sappling grows in a field. Its life but an empty book awaiting an author. The suns arises early this morning, and I see a hint of green. What a proud little sappling it must be, to have sprouted its first leaf for me. Weeks go by and I return to that field. As I make my rounds, I spot that plant. Oh how big my little friend has become. I sit down beside it and smile. As the wind blows its small, green leaves, I pull out a knife and gingerly slice them off. I work carefully until all that remains is the thin and delicate trunk. I remove the sappling from the ground and carefully strip the bark. What a perfect tree he was. What a perfect tree he could have been. After I have finished, I inspect my work. I smile to myself as I cut a notch into each end. I slip a few feathers into one and tie a flat, but sharp head to the other. Straight as an arrow this little tree was, and never have I seen one prettier. I marvel my work for only a second. A rustling of leaves comes from behind me. Quickly I turn, nocking my little friend. I fire without hesitation and watch with wonder. So straight was his flight. So dangerous was his landing. As the beast falls, I silently stab its heart, ending its painful death throes. I glance solemnly at the arrow in its side. "You saved me, my friend," I whisper. Some might say that I've killed you today, friend, but I believe I gave you a reason to live.