“I’ve got an idea, my story is complex but as long as we’re here; ask the Old One. He can simplify some of the toughest questions.”

“Ask him what?”

“Ask him, let’s see…oh I know, ask him who he is?”

“Ask him who he is? What will that tell me? He’s an old willow tree—isn’t he?”

“You should ask him.”

Annie rose from the bench and pushed through the snow to the ancient willow. Placing her hands on the cold bark, “Old One, who are you?”

“Many.” The deep sonorous voice sounded sleepy.

“Many?”

“The roots of many, become one in memory.”

“They are all in your memories?”

“We are one.”

“Your memories are all together?”

“I am the one, I am the many.”

“You are all of the others.”

“Their roots are my roots.”

“They became you?”

“I became them, I am the many.”