A crossbill’s peck is what started my life. I was one of several seeds in a pine cone that the little red finch had found, but one peck and it chose to spit me out; I wonder why. I fell to the ground, away from my mother. She was the tallest on the mountain and has had to live a tough life to be that way. She had braved quite a few blizzards, fires, slides and people. I always hoped to be at least half the pine she had been. 

As I sat there waiting for the avalanche to reach me and end it all, I saw the horrified look on the person’s face who had caused this. The barrel of his shotgun was still smoking. A grizzly lay bleeding near my mother, her cubs cowering next to her, looking lost and worried. The person was looking up towards the snow that was coming downhill. It was all going to be over soon, I couldn’t even let out a sigh. 

Suddenly there was a loud crash; my mother had fallen stopping the avalanche on its way. I could see that the snow had stopped moving. The person lay there motionless under her heavy branches; the gun was still smoking. The grizzly cubs were nuzzling against their dead mother’s body. 

I was alone.