Tree Girl by Ben Mikaelsen

soldiers might do to a half-naked woman and a baby. “Soldiers are coming,” I whispered loudly, glancing desperately over my shoulder and then back down at the motionless mother. I wanted to panic and hide, but I called Alicia to my side and placed the screaming baby in her arms. “Hold her,” I ordered. “I need to hide the mother.”
    Obediently Alicia held the baby and watched as I grabbed the mother’s wrists and dragged her deeper into the trees to where the brush would hide her body from the trail. Alicia followed us, holding the crying baby.
    I shook the woman. “What should I do with your baby?” I begged.
    The woman’s head fell to the side. I shook her again but she refused to wake up. Frantically I looked around. I couldn’t just leave the crying baby beside her. The soldiers would soon arrive.
    I pulled off the woman’s huipil and wrapped it around the baby as a blanket. I spread her dark corte over her to help hide her and to protect her from the mosquitoes and flies that swarmed around us in the morning air. I feared she was dying, but I could do nothing more to help her. There was no water or food to leave with her, and the soldiers walked closer with each second that passed. I needed to escape.
    I took the crying infant from Alicia, glanced one last time at the unconscious mother, then rushed into the forest away from the approaching soldiers. I ran as fast as I could, carrying the baby and holding Alicia’s hand. In some places I crossed trails but dared not follow them. At times the trees thinned and we were forced to walk out into the open. Those times terrified me. Finally I stopped to catch my breath with the baby still screaming urgently in my arms.
    I held the crying baby up to look into its eyes. “Be quiet, little baby!” I said loudly. “I’m trying to save your life. If you want to live, then help me. I’m not your mother, and life isn’t always kind.”
    I knew the baby didn’t understand my words, but ithiccuped and stopped crying to look at me. It seemed impossible to me, as I stared at the baby, to think that soldiers had begun their lives so small, vulnerable, and innocent. What was it that corrupted humans so?
    I brought the baby gently to my chest and rocked it and quietly sang a song Mamí once sang to me.
    Hush baby,
Don’t cry now.
Birds sing,
Church bells ring.
    Hush baby,
Don’t be sad.
Never fear.
Mamí’s near.
    As I sang, the baby’s urgent screams faded into fitful whimpers and she fell asleep on my shoulder. I held my breath; the soldiers could have been anywhere. Slowly I walked, cradling the baby in my arms and humming quietly. Alicia held to my corte and followed me.
    The morning sun had climbed high above us, heating the air and bringing thick swarms of mosquitoes. I shooed them from the baby’s face. When she woke again, the baby didn’t look well. She weighed heavy in my arms, listless and too weak to cry. I walked in circles, tracing my finger gently over the infant’s tiny cheeks and wondering what I should do. The baby needed to nurse from its mother, but I doubted the mother still lived, and soldiers most likely surrounded her.
    We walked on until we came to a small stream, where I wet the edge of my huipil. Carefully I dripped water into the baby’s mouth. She spit the water out and turned her head stubbornly to the side. Again I tried. Finally I lifted the baby and looked into her face again, saying, “Listen to me, little baby. If you love us, you’ll live. If you don’t, you’ll die. Do what you want, but decide quickly, because my sister, Alicia, she needs help, too.”
    Well, the baby must have loved us. She started sucking on my knuckle and let me squeeze water down my finger into her mouth. Again and again I dippedthe edge of my huipil into the stream and squeezed more water until the baby slept once again.
    I knew the baby needed more than water to survive, but it was all I had to offer her. I continued walking until the forest