The crows grow louder...

I scramble higher up the hill.  My hands clawing into the soil.  The grass wilts beneath my fists.  Bugs and rodents scream in agony.

My shoulders are on fire.

I am screaming wordlessly trying to get away from the heavenly mob.

The boy slowly walks next to me, although he is a man now.

I stop fighting my way up the hill and look into his eyes.

He has a larger branch now that has many many leaves.  Some look more wilted than others.

As I hold his gaze he ages in front of me.  One of his eyes clouds over and becomes listless.

The crows begin to circle around us.

The man falls to his knees, his right arm hangs loose at his sides.  A smile creases his face.

His branch becomes a root and falls from his hands and burrows into the ground.  I see the root move under the hill.

I see the tree on top of the hill and an old man in a wheelchair underneath.  

The man that was with me is him, distant.

The crows scream with fury.

My shoulder blades are wracked with pain and distort wildly.

I stand uneasy and limp towards the tree and man.

A crow dives towards me and tears my shirt and skin around my collarbone. 

Blood and feathers are in the air.

I hear Michael laugh.

I explode into pain...