I couldn’t move my lips, couldn’t speak, but could think. My name is Anastasia Miller. I am the vanguard of an invading species of alien plant people. How many times had I introduced myself that way? Hundreds. Thousands. So many encounters that began with the truth and ended with me being called a freak or a liar or a nutcase; so many attempts to connect, and so many of them had been rejected. I could count on the fingers of both hands how many times I’d been able to turn “hello” into something lasting. Most people were far more eager to reject than to accept.

// ours. // This time there was no question. Instead, a strange satisfaction filled the word, like the forest hadn’t been sure until that moment. // where? //

Washington State. I thought of my home, of the evergreens and blackberry tangles, of the deep, mossy forests where the streams were full of salmon and the underbrush was full of deer. I had seen a bear there once, when I was out hiking, and it had looked at me silently for almost a minute before it had turned and lumbered away.

I thought of Seattle, concrete and steel and the crush of people, the buzz of the tech industry, the slow decline of the suburban fringe. I thought of the green that was still everywhere, even in the urban centers, breaking through the cracks in the sidewalk and rooting itself in stone.

I thought of my house, my bedroom, my cat and my roommates, the way we fought over nothing and laughed even louder at the same exact things, the way we had each other’s backs. Humanity wasn’t all bad. It was self-destructive and contradictory and cruel, but it made good things, too.

// ah // whispered the forest. // thank you. //

The vines tightened, constricting until I couldn’t breathe. Another forced its way past my lips, filling my mouth with the taste of green, and with that same impossible sweetness. I tried to scream. Nothing came out. I was still choking when I lost consciousness, still struggling against a force so much larger than myself that I, like Earth, never had a prayer.

Graham, I’m sorry, I thought, and let go, and fell the rest of the way into nothingness.

Chapter 14

Tucson, Arizona: August 7, 2031

Invasion Day

1.