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We were given the land as part of the rebuilding scheme. They wanted people living and working on the land, now that it could be worked again.

There was just one problem.

The tree was huge, and old, roots burrowing deep underground. By then it was too late. We’d taken our choice. A plot right in the middle of everything.

We thought about building around it, of course. Dad had read the Odyssey, he thought it would be our palace. But Mum, ever practical, pointed out a better solution.

We built in it.

It was the best decision we ever made.

Our plot is the most productive for miles, because we have more of it. When the looters come through, they can’t get in. But best, best, best of all: we have a view. Over the electric fence, over the other houses, to the land beyond. We can see it changing. Soon others will know what we know.

Things are growing in the Waste. The world is changing.

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Writer of mainly spec-fic, I also play roleplaying games, particularly enjoying the shared storytelling.

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