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Walking with Thorny

by Stetson Bostic

Hitchhikers clung to Tasi’s pants as he neared the edge of the forest. He brushed them off while walking and looked ahead to the open field that showed through the final rows of trees. The golden grass flowed in the sunlight, appearing welcoming and warm, and easy to traverse after hours of trekking through the chill of the dense forest.
He’d been careful to avoid the Jagged oaks—stout trees with roots that threatened to trip and thorns grown to grab. Staring at the warm open land had become hypnotic, and Tasi lost focus for just a moment as he passed by one of the final few oaks before the tree line.

He walked too close and felt a dull push, a pinprick of pain in his side. Tasi stumbled out of the woods into the grass, touched at the wounded spot, and felt the thorn.

He was hesitant to look at his mistake. Instead, he adjusted his cap, matted back his hair before replacing it, and stomped his boots to rid them of any detritus. Tasi then took a slow breath and moved his hand once more to his right side just below the ribs. The thorn seemed to be buried deep, yet touching it caused only minor pain.

He glanced down, turning his eyes more than his head, and saw what appeared to be the tooth of a megalodon. A small stream of blood trickled from the puncture. The long edge of the thorn—the side that had pulled from the oak—had a wide groove that ran the length of the edge and held thousands of thin fibers. His adrenaline brought him focus, and he heard for the first time the vibrating song of the thorn.

The sound fluctuated between a rattle and a hum, and the farther from the forest he walked, the louder the sound became. Behind him, Tasi heard the low groan of a Jagged oak. He stopped, feeling annoyed and overwhelmed, and considered pulling the thorn from his side. He checked his wristpad and calculated that he could be back to town in forty minutes at an easy pace.

“Nice and steady, just concentrate on moving,” Tasi said to himself.

The thorn pulsed vibrations in reply.

Tasi stared at the intruder, then began to feel queasy as he examined the serrated inner edge of the curved thorn.

“It’s my own fault, but I still blame you,” he said, causing himself to release both a small flow of blood and some stress with a pained chuckle.

Again, the thorn pulsed a reply.

Tasi took a few steps, shook his head, then looked back at the thorn.

This time the sound it emitted was a murmur.

Going back to his wristpad, Tasi navigated to the translator and selected the auto setting. He held his forearm next to the thorn. With slight hesitation, he spoke to the thing protruding from him.

“Are you trying to chat, or just being funny?”

Waves of the hairlike lines rippled, letting out a melodic vibration.

The wristpad showed the soundwaves, then from speakers played the same noise with a vaguely human intonation.

“I think I’m the one being silly,” Tasi said. The wristpad responded to his voice, processed it, then played a series of rumbles.

The thorn erupted with excitement—every cord moving so rapidly their whole seemed fluid.

The wristpad showed it was processing, seemed to freeze, then played a choppy mix of rumbles and nearly distinguishable words.

“Are you communicating with me?” Tasi asked the thorn, noncommittal. The wristpad cycled and played tones that closely resembled the sound of the thorn.

The thorn responded, and this time the wristpad provided a complete and fairly accurate translation.

We are communicating.

Tasi felt his body flush with anxiety and amazement. He tried to think of something to say, but found his mind was void of coherent thoughts.

Vibrations. Thank you for taking me.

Trying to process, Tasi began to walk, then stopped, then began to walk again. The tall golden grass brushed at his knees and parted with his steps. He considered ignoring the thorn altogether. Finally, he allowed himself to speak.

“Why… was it good that I took you?”

I was the last of my pod. Soon I would have fallen to rot.

Tasi thought of Jagged oaks he’d seen. Behemoths circled unevenly with thorns at waist height. Some thorns missing; pocked scars. Thorns lying on the ground at the base of their tree.

“Well, I’m happy to help,” he said, taking a sharp breath and shaking his head.

You may drop me wherever, so that I may grow into Mother.

“I can’t quite yet. Thinking I might die if I do that.”

I do not understand.

“Dropping you now would cause me to rot.”

I am harming you.

“Just a little. Small harm. But if I dropped you, it would harm me more. So, let’s just walk awhile.” Tasi looked down and saw the thorn’s threads were pulsing gently but emitting no sound. He looked to either side of the clearing and saw other Jagged oaks and the thorns that grew on them. “What were you saying when you… caught… me?”

More pulsing.

The thorn remained silent for almost a minute as Tasi continued walking toward town. A gentle breeze was blowing, making the grass dance like a river of molten gold. Tasi considered the last few minutes and felt grateful for the break in the conversation that was allowing him to collect his thoughts.

Another minute passed, and Tasi decided to speak again. “I’m sorry if I have said something wrong.”

A quick reply—long purring vibrations. Being taken is happy and sad. The rest of my pod were taken by the other creatures. I do not know what you call them, but they are the creatures we rely on to be spread. I was the last remaining with Mother, and Mother and I shared much communication. When you took me, I had to say goodbye to Mother.

Tasi slowed his stride as he took in the information. “I could take you back if you like, drop you near your mother, after I have you removed safely in a way that doesn’t lead to me rotting.”

We are meant to spread. It can be sad. But we are meant to spread. Mother passed on the knowledge of us, all knowledge, and I must become Mother and pass on the knowledge.

“I’d be interested to hear your knowledge. Many of my kind would. We are new to this world, relative to you, and so you are new to us as well. Least you can do for tickling my appendix.” Tasi chuckled at his own joke. The short laugh reminded him of the blood, and he looked to his side to check on the flow. His shirt and pants were damp and red in the area around and below the thorn.

I do not understand all, but I understand passing knowledge. I would like to receive your knowledge as well.

Tasi nodded, realized the thorn could not see his nod, then realized he was not necessarily certain of this. “Can you see?”

I do not understand.

“How do you know you are…in me?”

I can feel you, and inner parts.

“I bet you can. Do you have a name?”

The thorn let out a series of vibrations that the wristpad could not translate.

“I was not able to understand; was that your name?”

That was my name.

“Will you say it again?”

Again, the wristpad failed to translate. Tasi considered that he could try to remember the sound but knew it was too complex for him to pronounce.

“Could I call you something else? Your name is difficult for me. Could I call you…” Tasi thought for a moment “…Thorny?”

There was a pause in the conversation.

Repeat it, many times.

“Thorny. Thorny. Thorny. Thorny.”

Another pause. I have remembered the sound. You may call me this. What are you called? Repeating.

“Tasi. Tasi. Tasi. Tasi.”

I have remembered the sound. I will call you Prrpr. The wristpad did not translate the final word.

“Repeat it again.”

Prrpr. Prrpr. Prrpr. Prrpr.

“I have remembered the sound.”

---

Tasi and Thorny continued through the clearing that was beginning to open wider as the tree lines on either side thinned and the grass grew shorter. Ahead the river could be heard, ringing against rocks and shore to make a melody that drew and calmed like a siren. Town was less than two kilometers past the river. Tasi had kept a brisker pace than he had expected. The time was passing quickly now as their conversation flowed.

They spoke of the creatures in the forest and the other species of trees, some of whom mother trees could communicate with. Tasi shared how he and his people came to Thorny’s home, and why, but much of this was difficult for Thorny to understand.

Though I am glad you are here.

As they crossed the river over a bridge built by members of Tasi’s town, Thorny asked that they stop, and informed Tasi that the river could be felt, that such a thing was part of the knowledge, though Thorny had never felt vibrations such as these before.

So much nourishment, enough for all.

Past the bridge, they came to a series of hills. Tasi found that walking uphill pained his side, but made sure to not express this to Thorny.

Tasi thought back to what had brought him out today—repairs on the communication tower that allowed their town to speak to the next, and therefore the one even farther away, all the way to the behemoth ships that had been built for a single trip; voyaging across the void to land and birth a colony.

Tasi, having been born and raised in his settlement, had only seen one of the original towns once—the ones built out from the base of the ships. He had gone on a supply run when he was young, when they were still not self-reliant and would on occasion need refills. The printed dome houses laid out in seemingly endless rows had been breathtaking, and walking through the ship had felt like being in another world. Twenty years had passed since that trip, and what he heard now about the original settlements was that they resembled small cities.

Some of this he tried to explain to Thorny, but most of the concepts proved to be too unfamiliar. Still, he enjoyed talking—closer to rambling—and sensed that Thorny was enjoying it as well. After a moment of walking in silence, he formed a simplified explanation.

“We also spread, but not on a creature. We create what we need to spread.”

I understand. I wish I could have done the same. I am causing you pain to spread.

Tasi smiled, touched by Thorny’s concern. “I will be okay.”

Ahead of them Tasi saw glimpses of the lush lowlands where his town was settled, appearing closer at the crest of each hill. He listened to Thorny explain their life cycle, how a thorn would bury itself in the ground, root, slowly grow into a mother tree that would one day sprout a pod of thorns.

As he asked clarifying questions, Tasi became increasingly aware of how dry his lips were, how even with the temperate air and generous breeze, he felt sweaty and warm. Each sip of water he took gave a moderate but brief reprieve to these sensations. More aware of how he was feeling, Tasi struggled to follow the conversation, momentarily lost focus, and tripped.

He caught himself by planting one knee into the fortuitously soft ground, sending pain up through his leg to his side where the puncture wound blared, overwhelming the nerves and sending them into gracious silence.

Thorny sensed something was wrong and began vibrating anxiously, which may have caused Tasi more discomfort had his body not already shut off those pain receptors. Tasi brought himself back to a standing position and tried to provide Thorny with reassurance.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.”

You are in great pain.

“We are almost at my home, but let’s stop talking until we reach it, so that I can save my strength.”

Thorny agreed. We will not communicate.

Tasi’s vision began to blur. He found that if he squinted so that his eyes felt pressed from behind, he could counteract the haze. Each individual step faded into a blend of persistence as the hills came and went and the town neared. Thorny occasionally let out a vibration no louder than a whimper—so faint Tasi’s wristpad did not register—but otherwise restrained their worry.

The town came into view as they crested the final slope before the gradual decent into the lowlands. The town—laid out in a cross—was busy with people who appeared to Tasi’s eyes as a swarm of fluid lines. Only a few of the homes that lined the roads were printed domes. The rest were made from materials of the surrounding land, shaped and smoothed by tools printed in town to resemble adobes of varying sizes. At the intersection of the two main roads were larger buildings constructed around an octagonal courtyard that acted as a town center.

Tasi struggled to keep his balance as he worked his way to the road that ended here but extended and flowed all the way to the next settlement, where it connected with others to flow back to the ships. Small bushes and new growth trees slowed his progress. His right hand held Thorny in place.

Sweat poured off Tasi’s chin and nose as he breached the road and began down it to where the first homes began. Some settlers waved at him before noticing his distress. Staggering in the center of the road, his legs finally failed, and he collapsed and crumpled to the dirt, sending wisps of the road into the air. He lay with his left arm and wristpad pinned beneath his side—using the last of his strength to elevate Thorny off the ground.

As people gathered, they could see his pale color and sweat-drenched clothing. There were murmurs and discussions until finally one woman took it upon herself to run for one of the town’s doctors. As the doctor, Eula Chey, made her way to Tasi, the rest of the onlookers listened to the vibrating of the thorn. A teenage boy leaned closer and while doing so heard Tasi’s faint plea.

“Don’t hurt the thorn. Don’t hurt Thorny.”

---

Tasi awakened to the mechanical beeps of treatment. He saw Eula standing in front of a monitor on the far side of the room, comparing the screen to something on her wristpad. He tried to speak and found that he could—his first sentence coming out in an unintentional yell.

“Where is Thorny?”

Eula turned, acknowledged Tasi, then finished typing something into her wristpad before making her way to him. As she crossed the room, Tasi heard a vibration. Straining his neck, he looked to his right and saw that Thorny was at his side, resting on a small bedside table.

Thorny was emitting steady vibrations, having heard Tasi’s voice, but neither could understand the other’s words. Tasi searched for his wristpad but found only sensors and an IV.

“My wristpad,” he said, looking at Eula, who was nearing. “I can—”

“Don’t I always tell you,” Eula said, arriving at his side, “every time, before you go out, when you’re working for me to gather supplies, to be careful.”

“I can talk to it,” Tasi said, pointing at Thorny.

“As can I,” Eula said, tapping her wristpad. “Good to know the name, though. It’s been nice talking to you, Thorny.” Her wristpad translated.

It has been nice communicating with you. I am happy Prrpr will not rot.

“He will be just fine,” Eula said, looking back at Tasi, who was now smiling. “Nasty cocktail on Thorny’s tip, I suppose to ensure whatever creature pulls them eventually drops them. But your blood is being scrubbed as we speak.”

Tasi squirmed at the thought of the little bots swimming through his veins, his arteries, blanketing his organs. “How long do I have to stay?” His hand fell to the bandage and felt the rough tack.

“You’re okay to go,” Eula replied. She opened a drawer next to Tasi’s bed, removed his wristpad, and handed it to him. “Just take it easy. Let me finish getting your pills cooked up. Five a day for five days, okay?”

“Okay,” Tasi said, easing himself into a sitting position. “Thank you.”

Eula responded to his thanks with a smile, then turned and walked to the other side of the room. Tasi watched her working for a moment before turning to Thorny.

“How soon do you need to be planted? To finish spreading?”

Thorny took a moment to consider this. I do not know.

“Better not to wait then. I will take you to finish.”

Okay.

---

Eula gave Tasi his pills and told him to come back tomorrow to be checked on. Both he and Thorny thanked her again, and Thorny said goodbye to Eula. She returned the goodbye, and as they walked away, she squeezed her brow in wonder.
Tasi walked them to one of the dome homes near the town center on the short road. Instead of entering, he walked around back to a small garden lined with a variety of well-tended vegetables.

“This is where I live,” he said.

Where you grow.

“Yes,” he said, touching Thorny against the dirt. “Will this be a good place for you?”

It feels like a good place to grow.

Tasi walked to an empty patch of dirt in the center of his garden. He considered how close Jagged oaks grew together and decided the plot would be large enough for Thorny to be comfortable. He set Thorny in the center of the patch of dirt and eased himself down into a sitting position.

“I could take you somewhere else. Near others of your kind.”

Here is where you will continue to grow?

“Yes,” Tasi said, smiling.

I would like to grow here. To become Mother. To grow my pod. To share the knowledge with my pod, and your kind. To have your pod one day take mine, and carry them to spread.

Tasi felt his emotion fill between his eyelids until a tear grew heavy enough to break the surface tension and fall to his cheek. “I would like that as well.”

Until I grow to be Mother, I will not be able to communicate. I will be under the dirt, then too small. This is in the knowledge. I have enjoyed communicating with you, Prrpr.

“I have enjoyed communicating with you, Thorny.”

I am glad you did not rot.

“And I am glad that you did not rot.”

I look forward to communicating again.

Tasi’s tears flowed. They wet the dirt near where Thorny would soon be buried, providing the first portion of nourishment. “I will be waiting. We will communicate again soon.”

With that, Tasi began to scoop and brush dirt, slowly working a shallow divot into the ground. Satisfied and confident Thorny did not need to be buried deep, Tasi placed Thorny into the ground and began to gently brush dirt to cover his friend and fill in the hole.

---

By the time Thorny, Mother Thorny, was large enough to communicate again, Tasi had helped raise the first of what would eventually be a pod of four. His daughter was too small to communicate with Thorny at first, but Thorny felt her hugs and knew by her vibrating giggles that she enjoyed being told the story of the day Thorny and her father met.

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Host Commentary

Once again, that was Walking With Thorny, by Stetson Bostic.

The author had this to say: While hiking with his cousin, Stetson noticed a bur clinging to his sock, and spent the next twenty miles thinking up this story.

Some stories are action-packed, plot-driven, you’ll pay for the whole seat but you’ll only need the edge kinds of stories. “Walking With Thorny” is not one of them. Instead we have this meditative, tranquil tale about a human and a plant learning to communicate, despite the unfortunate circumstances of their temporary union. The narrative motion mimics the slow journey through nature that it describes, so that it feels like we’re on our own pensive hike along with the characters. There is still tension and suspense, but Tasi’s quiet, uncomplaining persistence and Thorny’s innocent curiosity serve to soothe our fears and give us hope that all will be well in the end. As someone who has definitely suffered the sting of a spiky burr stuck to their sock, I can’t say I’ve been quite so sympathetic to my thorny tormenters, but this story reminds us that even the most unpleasant seeds are only trying to find a place to take root and grow–and maybe we can help them.

Escape Pod is part of the Escape Artists Foundation, a 501(c)(3) non-profit, and this episode is distributed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International license. Don’t change it. Don’t sell it. Please do share it.

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Our opening and closing music is by daikaiju at daikaiju.org.

And our closing quotation this week is from John Muir, who said: “In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.”

Thanks for joining us, and may your escape pod be fully stocked with stories.