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Life is a Tree	By : CGH Category: Transformers > Transformers: Animated > AU/AR Views: 2357 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers: Beast Wars, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Life is a Tree
- 2-Ch 2
- 3-Ch 3
- 4-Ch 4
- 5-Ch 5
- 6-Ch 6
- 1
- 2
Warning- CONTAINS SLASH!
Author's note- Well, from here on out my ProwlxJazz fics will be considered AU due to what transpired in Mission Accomplished. This story takes place after my other fic, Light.

Life is a Tree

Humans called it "Braille."
It was very simple to learn. Each character, or cell, was made up of six dot positions arranged in two vertical columns of three. This offered up to sixty-three possible dot combinations per cell. There was grade one Braille, which was individual letters. Grade two was a little more complex, utilizing shorthand contractions for whole words like "the," shortening certain syllables like "ow" or "ch" or rendering one long word into a few abbreviated letters, like "rcv" for "receive" and "brl" for "Braille." These contractions were also versatile--depending on the context in which they were used, some of the same dot patterns could attain entirely different meanings. Blind humans used this tactile system to read.
Prowl found it utterly fascinating.
He downloaded the entire system off the internet and memorized it in less than an hour. There were Braille markings on some of the doors in the warehouse. Prowl waited until everyone else entered recharge mode before he dared explore this new discovery. Though the dots were tinier than Sari's fingertips, Prowl's sensitive fingers were able to detect the patterns. They were room numbers. A few had labels for what was kept behind the doors while others contained directions to different parts of the building.
He could read...there were no words for the delight welling in his fuel tanks. Even text on the highest contrast was somewhat difficult for him. It had to be large and bright or the oscillators in his head had trouble detecting the thin lines, resulting in excruciating headaches. Human text was simpler than Cybertronian, which consisted of such complex glyphs that he could only read his Academy data pads on the highest contrast and magnification. It took forever and drew too much attention. Reading via his oscillators was a chore he loathed so much that, if possible, he'd listen in on those who liked to read out loud and commit what he heard to his memory banks. His test scores were always low because he could never finish on time--a trait he used to blame on being a good studier and a bad test taker. He despised anything that involved reading.
Now, he hated it no more.
When morning came, Prowl struck out on his own in vehicle mode and drove to the library for the blind, which was located across town from the warehouse. He took back roads, avoided traffic and prayed that none of the Elite Guard were out sweeping for Decepticons.
Wait, what am I doing? Prowl asked himself upon arriving in the alley behind the library. He couldn't very well stick his face in a window and ask for a book. Humans weren't stupid--some were familiar with the human hologram he used in vehicle mode. It would be associated with the "motorcycle Autobot" and word of his dabbling in Braille might get out. It could get back to Optimus...he'd be forced to explain and that risked his life coming to a swift, premature end.
He decided to create another hologram.
Prowl scanned a few of the humans walking past the alleyway and combined their appearances to formulate himself a different human hologram. This one was a tall, thin male with hair the color of fresh carrots. Prowl added a trench coat, sunglasses and one of those white canes the blind humans used. He felt bad that he was about to practically steal books--he swore he'd bring them back when he was done--but he seriously wanted to explore this new freedom and didn't dare risk getting himself a library card. He knew he couldn't visit regularly because someone was bound to notice his vehicle mode frequenting the area. Paranoia made him cautious in everything he did.
Using a hologram rendered his oscillators useless. He tapped to the door and slipped undetected inside. The library smelled like paper with a pinch of dust. He approached the sound of typing and hoped it was the front desk.
"Excuse me, I'm new in town. Where do you keep your books on nature and poetry?"
"Oh! You have quiet feet!" The woman behind the desk jolted out of her chair. She had a young, twittering voice that reminded him of the birds often present in his tree. "Go straight ahead from where you're facing. Poetry is two rows to your left and nature is three to the right."
"Thank you," Prowl's hologram smiled. He counted his steps, using their echo to get a sense of the area. A large, rectangular room full of whispers and breathing and the swish of fingers gliding over paper. It took a minute to find his way around an annoying post that escaped his detection and the shame nearly drove him straight back out the door. He hoped no one with usable vision witnessed his humiliation.
He found the sections he wanted easily enough.. Poetry first, he decided. A swipe of his fingers and he could read the titles. No more straining to make out tiny lines! He could be literate again!
His hunger to read overtook his calmness, and he cursed himself silently for the unseen failure. He snatched a random book and used some slight of hand to shove it under his coat. Thankfully the books were not hardback, so it molded slightly to his torso. Then he calmly padded into the nature aisle where he heard a few people walking around. His throat tightened. A cane bumped his ankle.
"Sorry," said its male owner.
"It's fine."
Prowl slipped another book under his trench coat. His senses remained trained like lasers on the sound shadows cast by the bookshelves, walking bodies and the occasional opening and closing of the door. No one noticed him. He waited until someone distracted the librarian before he bolted without a sound. The alarms were not fast enough to prevent his escape. His hologram slammed the books under the seat of his real body before he took it offline. Everyone was so intent on the library door that nobody paid attention to the motorcycle peeling into the street.
Prowl made it to the warehouse in just over two hours due to his using back roads and alleys. He earned his name that way, by prowling just beyond everyone's sight. He ejected the books from under his seat, transformed and held out his hand to catch them. They were large by human standards--taking up half his palm while closed.
His mind rumbled, hungry for knowledge. He slipped like a shadow into his personal quarters, locked the door and sat down within hearing distance of the wooden wind chimes high up in the treetop.
At first, he found himself dismayed that the pages were so small compared to his giant hands. The Braille cells were close together, maximizing the space on the page. He tried to read the individual lines several times using the edge of his finger, the corner, even his knuckle joint until he realized, much to his delight, that he could feel and process the text by simply sliding his sensitive fingertip left to right across the top and bottom halves of each page.
Reading was no longer a strain ending in terrible headaches. Prowl devoured the nature book--a book about plants--in the span of an hour. He leaned back and beamed ecstatically his newfound freedom. His joy was magnified by the fact that he had someone to share it with.
"Jazz," Prowl opened his com link to a private channel, "Are you busy?"
"Prowl! Hey, sexy!" Jazz answered, his voice a smooth river, "I was just on my way out to see ya."
Prowl's smile parted in a small grin. Why did that prospect send his circuits jolting? "Good. I have something to show you."
.o
Prowl's hands fascinated Jazz. Narrow, slightly tapered tan fingers as nimble as caterpillars sprouted from his black palm. They made him think of a rose--a flower Prowl described as beautiful until the thorns came into play. And right now, those fingers were gliding across the tiny pages of a human book. Each page contained a myriad of raised bumps almost too small for his keen eyesight to detect. He stood back a moment, watching Prowl brush his finger twice over one page, flow across the book to the next one and then turn the page to repeat the process again.
"What'cha got there, Prowl?"
He looked up, "Braille. Tactile reading for blind humans. It is remarkable."
Jazz felt great for Prowl. From what he heard, text did pose problems for him on occasion. "Sweet! So...what'cha reading, then?"
"Poetry by Edgar Allen Poe." Prowl's mouth twitched in a veiled smile of delight Jazz never saw before today. He rubbed his index fingertip across the page, paused and recited, "It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea, that a maiden lived whom you may know by the name of Annabel Lee..."
Jazz lent his audios to the rumble of Prowl's soft voice, taking in the ancient prose. He couldn't avoiding smiling at the joy on his companion's face--it was like a whole new world opened under his fingertips. Every word Prowl read made his lips tremble and grin as if he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"I...don't understand what that guy is tryin' to say," Jazz chuckled, "but you sure looked happy reading it to me."
Prowl stashed the books behind a large tree root. His hand moved to briefly conceal his face. A shy, unconscious gesture. "This Edgar Allen Poe uses a lot of nature in his descriptions. His words...they are beautiful."
"Can't argue there." Jazz said. He scooted closer to where Prowl was sitting, making noise on purpose before letting their knees bump. He knew Prowl hated being touched without some prior warning. "That Braille stuff looks pretty complex, though. How'd you learn it so fast?"
"I downloaded it."
Jazz slapped himself on the forehead. Way to make a fool of himself in front of the mech he liked! "Ultra Magnus is a little paranoid about divin' into the internet here. Sentinel almost expelled a space barnacle when I told him I downloaded some sweet music."
Prowl's naturally protruding bottom lip seemed to stick out even further than usual. "Bumblebee does that. I wonder how humans can call screaming and percussion 'music' at all."
"It's called 'metal' and some of it is pretty obnoxious." Jazz couldn't resist giving that bottom lip a light thump with his index finger. He watched Prowl's mouth tighten and chuckled, "Did you know this planet has a music style with the same name as me?"
"Jazz?"
"Yeah. Who would've thought, eh?" Jazz laughed. He located one of the files he downloaded, a song titled The Groove by someone named Rodney Franklin. The laid-back piano, drums, bass and trumpets filtered through his speakers. "This's what it sounds like."
The way Prowl started to cringe in anticipation of screaming lyrics made Jazz cover another laugh. There wouldn't be any--this song was an instrumental. Lazy drums thumped gently against the quiet.
Jazz nodded his head to the beat. "Relax. Get into it. I promise it won't scream at ya."
Convincing Prowl took some time. Halfway through the song, he finally seemed to realize his audios weren't about to be blasted off.
"That..." Prowl relaxed his servos with an audible hiss, "...that isn't so bad."
"Cool. Now you just gotta learn how to follow the groove. Here," Jazz held up his hand and began snapping his fingers in time to the drums. "Do this."
Rhythm came naturally for Prowl. He easily matched the beat. "How's this?"
"Great. Now give it some arm action. Like throwin' one of your disks aside--that's it."
Prowl got into it--in a moment he and Jazz were snapping and moving their shoulders along with the music.
"Man, you're a natural!" Jazz grinned and leaned over, bumping shoulders with the attractive mech beside him. He loved how Prowl's hands showed their grace even in an act as simple as finger-snapping.
"Or a fast learner," said Prowl, his clicks never missing a beat. "Interesting tune, by the way. The musical instruments sound as if they're conversing with each other."
The assessment took Jazz by surprise. "Yeah, exactly! Pretty sweet, ain't it?"
"It's..." Prowl's thin lips curved in a half-smile, "all right. Good for a media player on a boring day."
"I should try that too. Much as I like the music here, I can't keep it laying around my hard drives all the time--" Jazz looked over when he felt Prowl's fingertips contact his wrist. They slid effortlessly up his arm to his face, drawing arcane patterns on his cheekbone and making him nearly forget his monologue, "--Ultra Magnus doesn't like that."
"Mm..." Prowl dropped his voice to a register that set Jazz's circuits tingling. He leaned over, smirking, and gently thumbed Jazz's bottom lip. His touch was lightning. "He doesn't, does he?"
Then his smirk dropped and he hesitated, second guessing his own amorous behavior. Having been there, Jazz knew exactly what questions were going through Prowl's head. Am I too forward? Will he think I'm strange? What if he isn't as interested as I thought? Should I kiss him? How far should we go?
"Heh, heh! Yeah. I don't mind riling the old bot up once in awhile. Keeps him on his toes."
"Hm," Prowl was still leaning forward.
Awkwardness and Prowl were a strange combination when presented together. Still, Jazz found Prowl's lack of romantic experience adorable. Deciding to make things easier, he pulled him into his lap and brushed a fluttering kiss against his parted lips. "What's on your mind?"
"Nothing!" Prowl began. Then, just as quickly, he hung his head with a world-weighted sigh. "Everything."
"Hm?" Jazz prodded only because he wanted Prowl to keep talking. The dark ninja always seemed to have so much bottled up inside. Jazz couldn't imagine living a life without witty conversations or friends that kept loneliness at bay. If allowed, he was sure Prowl could talk for hours and never repeat himself. "It's okay. Whatever it is, tell me. I'm all ears."
Prowl's expression remained guarded. His voice gave away his unease...Jazz noticed the volume of his voice expressed his level of comfort in a situation. The softer he spoke, the less comfortable he was. Right then, his words were barely above a flat whisper, "My--teammates...and their reaction to our relationship."
"Why worry?"
A shrug. "I don't know..."
"Then don't worry. We aren't breakin' any rules. If somebody sees us together, who cares?"
"It will blow my reputation as the grumpy ninja," Prowl grumbled. He couldn't hold his face deadpan and burst into soft snickers.
Jazz chuckled and switched songs. Something slower, smoother. His sensors almost melted when he felt Prowl swish his hips to the smooth guitar and drums.
"I really like this one," Prowl spoke in a low tone while leaning so close their lips grazed, "What is it called?"
"Rain, by a guy named Norman Brown," Jazz replied. Prowl's mouth hovered before him, tempting like forbidden fruit that he couldn't resist. He leaned forward one last inch and tasted the soft, metallic warmth of those lips.
"Then I wonder," Prowl said between lip-locks, "If sunlight is as loud as you say, does that mean moonlight sounds more like this? Quiet and smooth?"
Jazz pondered for a few beats. He loved the challenge of explaining the visual world in terms Prowl could better understand. Moonlight was adularescent and silent like photonic ice...same as the music.
"Yeah...I'd say so. And that part where the piano sounds like chimes is..." He nuzzled the fingertips gliding across his cheekbone, "...twinkling stars."
.o
Prowl listened to Jazz's creamy voice telling him what the moon and stars sounded like. He marveled at the other ninja's ability to take the visual and represent it with an audio or tactile equivalent. But it was so typical of Jazz that such a detail shouldn't have been surprising.
"I think I found ya a new addiction," Jazz whispered in his ear. He had Prowl hooked on his touch, his lips and his voice. Another reason to like him wouldn't cause any harm.
Smirking, Prowl fingered the satiny dip between Jazz's nose and his upper lip. That precious space changed shape when Jazz smiled or frowned. He never would've known that wonderful hollow existed if he kept his exploration limited to his visor.
"Maybe," said Prowl. He relaxed into Jazz and took in the sense of him...the rhythmic intakes, his Spark-pulse and the warmth of his internals. Touch was not his enemy. Touch healed him inside. Touch let him see.
He couldn't bring himself to tell Jazz there was perhaps one person out there he could ever truly love...but that someone--a someone he never mentioned to anyone and whose name he didn't even know--was a mech he only met once and would likely never meet again. The line of thought made him realize how unrealistic this old dream was in the grand scheme of things. He had genuine feelings for Jazz. Accepting them was difficult when this ideal person still floated in his memory. What if he committed himself fully to Jazz and then ran into this mystery mech?
His rational side rose up to smash his inner quarrel. This mech from ages past probably wouldn't remember him if they sat face to face in the same room. With that in mind, he asked the one nagging question that wouldn't be silent.
"Jazz?"
"Mmhmm?"
"Suppose you discovered my blindness before you felt your attraction--"
"Prowl, I wouldn't have turned ya in. I've--seen how it's done, how they're euthanized. I...I think it's murder of innocents. They ain't criminals. They just have something wrong with 'em." There was a tremble in his words, a subtle, cautious note that left snags in its silk, and his body temperature dropped nearly five degrees. He practically flinched on the subject. "If every flawed mech deserves to die, it should include personality flaws too. Like Sentinel--the bot whose chin is only preceded by his ego. He should be on the list. Ultra Magnus should go on it because he's old and set in his ways. Nobody's without flaw, Prowl. Nobody. Even me...I guess I need to be killed because sometimes I like to show off when I'm good at something. You ever show off, Prowl?"
The odd quiver in Jazz's voice bothered Prowl. It was like the train horns with a harmonic note missing. Off, somehow.
"Yes, once, and it ended badly. I was stupid enough to accept mods." The weight of extra armor and the smell of freshly broken eggs haunted his memory. That helmet he wore--heavy and annoying as it was--enhanced his audios to twice their normal range. He swore he could use his sense of hearing better than his oscillators. He'd been arrogant, foolish and even turned his visor off at one point. If he'd kept it online, he never would've damaged the environment while fighting a Starscream clone or given himself away in the warehouse! "I...I harmed the very organic creatures I love to study. I learned my lesson. The only mod I'll ever use is my visor."
"Ohh...so you were the one runnin' around with Lockdown? Wow." Jazz rocked back a little, "Mods...yeah, my visor's a mod, too, for looks. But that's it. I don't use enhancers. You shouldn't either--you're gorgeous just the way you are."
"Flattering," Prowl curled his lip in dark amusement. Then, serious, he continued, "Now, about the--"
"No." Jazz shook his head. "Prowl, can we change the subject for awhile? This...isn't something I'm ready to discuss yet. Bad memories."
Prowl tightened his mouth in a frown. His innards ran cold--what if Jazz was sent to turn him in all along? No, no, no...Jazz swore he'd never do that, and Prowl trusted him enough to keep his word on that. He sighed, letting his shoulders sag. "Only if you promise you'll tell me in the future."
The lips under Prowl's fingertips pursed and slowly relaxed. "I swear I will." Jazz paused, made a coughing noise and his shoulders shifted. He was looking around, trying to find a distraction. "Y'know, Magnus wants me to investigate an energy source in the woods. Could be a piece of the AllSpark. Come with me tomorrow. Let's take a...what's that thing humans do with tents?"
Jazz was dodging the subject, trying to sound happier than he obviously felt. Something about the question Prowl asked earlier spooked him to the core. His body temperature still hadn't quite come up from its sudden drop--a common indicator of fear or stress.
He decided to, as humans called it, throw Jazz a bone. "Camping trip?"
"Camping trip...yeah. You and I. I betcha Optimus would let you if you convince him Sentinel won't be sticking his nose up our afts."
"He probably does so because he can't reach his own," Prowl muttered. He realized too late that he'd said it out loud. What was it about Jazz and that made it impossible for him to avoid speaking his mind?
Jazz exploded in laughter so suddenly that he tipped over backwards. With his support gone, Prowl toppled right along with him. Jazz's body shook like an earthquake against his chest and the pleasant sound of his amusement became a melody sliding around the room. Jazz had such a peculiar laugh--soaring high as a whine and then exploding into loud guffaws that cycled the entire musical scale of his voice. His whole face and body went into it. Prowl's fingertips detected creases at the corners of Jazz's eyes. Laugh lines so long they extended from under the visor.
"Oh man," his bad mood was salt dissolving in water. The energy his laughing released was almost equal to an overload. He calmed down slowly, gasping to cool his internals. "You're probably right, too."
"I usually am." Prowl pushed himself up a bit. He caught himself smiling, his mind still on the wonderful sound Jazz made a moment ago. Prowl never was one to laugh so openly--usually he kept his amusement to a quiet chuckle or a smile. Keeping his emotions in check was a way of staying in the shadows--nobody paid much attention to boring people. Except Jazz, of course, and Prowl STILL scratched his head over that. "Which is why I suspect your motives to venture out alone are also a means of sharing time alone with me."
"Ah...busted." Jazz sat up. "I wanna get you alone. Figured maybe you'd--I dunno--want to open up more if you thought nobody was around to see stuff you don't want 'em to see."
A thoughtful gesture that smelled like intentions beyond simply talking. Prowl smirked to himself. He found the prospect of being completely alone with Jazz as frightening as it was wonderful. While he did respect his teammates, he wouldn't mind being able to work on his own without needing to answer to anybody. Being able to survive alone was always the one way he knew he wasn't dependent. He struggled with this when he thought of Jazz. It was difficult to get past his own ideas of independence.
Besides, in his earliest years when he needed the most help, it wasn't there. So he stopped looking for it.
"I should inform Optimus of our plans."
"Sure. Want me to back you up?"
"Thank you, but I can handle this. He's pretty good about letting me work alone."
"Alone?"
Prowl gazed down at Jazz, "You could always give me coordinates and let me meet you wherever you choose. I seem to recall it being done in the one romance novel I suffered through at the Academy--"
"Oh, Primus..." groaned Jazz, "you had to read Tales From the Lover's Spark, too?"
"Mmhmm. Where the lovers left poetry hanging in trees and met in secret. Those were the only parts I liked." Prowl didn't dare admit that novel was his one and only exposure to romance before Jazz. He used to believe everyone in love acted that way and the young, wild part of him yearned to experience it first-hand. "I suppose my idea of 'romantic' would involve a similar situation."
"You're cheeky, you know that?"
"I do now." Prowl pushed himself up off Jazz's chest. "I'll be back."
Finding Optimus wasn't all that difficult--he tended to stand alone by the computer console, monitoring the area for potential Autobot or Decepticon activity. Prowl fought the rush of nervousness percolating in his processors when it came to regarding his superior officer. Optimus proved himself rather perceptive regarding people. He was a good judge of character and Prowl feared one day he'd guess the truth.
I suppose there's no sense in stalling. Prowl softly cleared his throat and willed himself to speak, "Sir."
"Prowl," Optimus faced him. His voice always had a sad heaviness mixed into its tenor rumble. He carried heaps of regret that never seemed to lift. "What can I do for you?"
"Not much," Prowl kept his tone casual, "Jazz recently informed me there may be a shard of the AllSpark located in the forest where Sumdac discovered Megatron's head."
"Oh?" The console creaked when Optimus leaned his hip against it. He didn't sound entirely convinced. "And you want to go alone?"
"Yes," Prowl nodded. "I don't see a reason to send the entire team out when one set of hands will do."
To his surprise, Optimus chuckled. His voice lowered to a whisper, "Prowl, if you want to spend time alone with Jazz, there's nothing wrong with simply asking."
"Wh-what?" Flustered, Prowl struggled and failed to keep his mind on-topic, "I don't--"
"Prowl. I saw you two."
"Sir?"
"Oh, frag." Optimus smacked his forehead with his palm. He seemed to realize what he just said and shrank back an inch, "I...um--the other night, I walked out onto the roof to ask you something. I turned right around and left when I saw what was going on..."
Whatever else he said after that went right over Prowl's head. Mortified didn't begin to describe the sinking feeling in his fuel pumps. His commanding officer saw him up-linking. He wanted nothing more than to seek the nearest shadow and vanish forever. The only good thing was Optimus didn't gossip about such matters...but it did little to soften the blow.
Primus, please end me now...
"Prowl, you aren't in any trouble." Optimus sounded increasingly less like a leader and more like a young mech caught in the act of something against regulations. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you."
Prowl threw his hands up in an almost defensive gesture. He wanted to deflect this snowballing embarrassment before it ran him over. "Jazz suggested working together so we can keep our respective teams informed of whatever we find. That way neither can be accused of withholding information from the other."
But Optimus wasn't so easily deterred, "A little time alone with Jazz would be good for you."
"Sir..." He gave up and let the proverbial snowball flatten him inside. "I--"
Suddenly, Optimus slapped his hand flat on the console and his voice took on a harsher tone. "Are you blind, Prowl?"
Ice pulsed down Prowl's back. "I--"
Prime cut him off, his words flaming in their softness, "Jazz is crazy about you! Why do you keep denying yourself? You have a chance to be happy. And you're--you're trying to deny it." There was pain in his voice. The pain of experience. "Why, Prowl?"
Prowl startled when Optimus settled a large, gentle hand on his shoulder and bent down so their gazes were level. It was probably the most detailed view of him Prowl ever got through his oscillators--a square, serious blue visage with attractive come-hither lips and sad, regretful optics. This close proximity made Prowl uncomfortable--though the visor was opaque he still had an irrational fear that anyone who came close would see the truth underneath.
"You always struck me as lonely. I don't know what horrible secret you're hiding from me, but it's clear you've told Jazz and he doesn't care. Whatever it is, he accepts you as you are."
Prowl nervously licked his lips. "...sir, I..."
"Prowl--hey, Prowl, relax. You're wound tighter than a locking coil." Optimus smiled and the sorrow he carried melted just a little. "Take the time off. You and Jazz seem right for each other. So go get him--don't muck around. I fell in love, once..." He sighed, "I didn't speak up when I should have. Now...well, that's the past. Let's just say the price is too high."
So that was the thrum of pain in Prime's voice.
"I'm sorry..."
"Bah. It's the past." Optimus waved it off. "Take forty-eight hours."
"What?" Prowl didn't know what to say. Optimus just flabbergasted the words right out of his mind. "Are you--sure?"
"Yeah. Barring a life or death crisis, we'll leave you alone if there's trouble. Take the break. You need it." Optimus finally moved his hand away and straightened to his full height.
Two full days. Forty-eight hours. A generous proposition considering their line of work. Prowl didn't dare protest it and risk having time shaved off. He'd need it to sort himself out and decide which future he wanted to pursue. As much as he liked Jazz, he was still terrified that his secret could send them both to their deaths--him for being flawed and Jazz for knowingly harboring him.
"Th-thank you," Prowl said, his voice twisted small. "I'll depart before sunrise tomorrow."
"Good." Optimus returned his attention to the console, smiling. "I hope you work this out. You deserve to be happy, Prowl."
Prowl walked off in a daze. His limbs ached with tension.
It would be good to get away for a few days.
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Life is a Tree