26
Smoke pulled branches and tree leaves out of his mouth.
He lay tangled in a giant oak tree, hanging upside down.
His chest was sore, and his arms ached beyond anything he felt before.
He pulled one leg off a large branch and winced.
“No—”
The leg was holding him in place. He fell from the branch and crashed onto a dirt surface.
He rolled over and wiped dirt from his eyes.
“Gaaaah…”
He looked up, breathing heavily.
He was in an oak tree.
He heard the sound of sirens and horns below.
He sat up.
A roof.
He was on a roof.
A vegetated roof. There were trees, grass, and dirt everywhere.
He was high. Many, many stories above Macalestern’s living platform.
Jesus.
He'd been lucky. The tree broke his fall.
His arm burned with pain. It was bleeding.
He saw a protrusion sticking
