The other trees appeared to be disturbed by it as well. They leaned away from it as if fearful of its malignant touch. To Timmy’s keen eye the almost dead tree wasn’t one of the hazel, hawthorn or ash varieties, which made it seem even more out of place here. Whatever it had been, it had festered too long for Timmy to identify it. As he racked his brain a strange thought clicked in his mind, like a dream memory: