The Mother Tree

The tree was caught in a terrible storm.
Rain lashed down upon the forest, and thunder cracked overhead. All the burrowing animals scrambled to be free of their homes before the tunnels flooded. Other creatures sought refuge beneath trees or rocky overhangs. And the tree braced herself against the cold wind and freezing rain, looking down upon the shivering and sopping animals under her care.
If only I were able to encircle them, she wished. If only I do better to house them, to protect them - to stand tall and proud with my branches reaching toward the sun and sky, and become a place of refuge for all who need it. She wished that desperately, and with all her heart. It pained her to see such sorrow.
The other trees of the forest were of a slightly different mindset. They closed themselves against the wind and the rain, proud that their roots and branches could shelter as many animals as they did - but it wasn't at the forefront of her thoughts. Lightning struck, and with a creaking groan, one of the trees fell. Animals scattered away. The trees fervently wished that they would be spared.
But the sad tree mourned for the loss of her brother, and wished him peace and rest among the solid earth.
Many months passed, and many storms came and went. And still, the tree wished that she could do more for others - she was a tree, standing tall and proud, a beacon of life and a refuge to all who wished. But if only she could become truly great. Not just tall and proud, but huge and glorious. Not only a beacon of life, but a symbol of vibrance and peace. More than a refuge - a shelter, a haven.
Then, one day, one of the forest's frequent visitors passed by the tree. A dragon. He stopped, looked the tree up and down, and, perhaps, looking at the creatures that flocked to it and the lushness of its leaves, saw its hope. "This is the tree," he said, smiling.
And so it was. Throughout the next weeks, a small group of humans and dragons came to slowly dig the tree out of the ground, taking extra care that none of her roots were cut. She began to worry - what were they doing with her? And why were they separating her from her homeland? Then came the day that the dragons stood in a circle around her, chanting a small piece of magic. She could feel new life spring into her sap and stretched, soaking in the warmth of the sun. And, just like that, she was completely free of the earth.
They carefully took her and bore her up, up, up, into the very sky itself. There she became one with the clouds, and found that she could take root in and nourishment from them. Though she was lonely, and missed her tree brethren and animal friends, she enjoyed being free of rain and so close to the sun. And, with the meticulous tending from many more dragons, she found that she could slowly stretch her branches and roots, and then -
She was no longer a tree, but a building - a large hall, a simple gathering place.
And when the first rains came, the dragons took shelter in her.
Over the years, a new line of trees - special trees - came from her. She and her descendants stretched to the sun, breathing new life into the sky. Their leaves became a vibrant green, their branches stretched into the very atmosphere, and their bark gleamed in the sunlight. Life flowed within them, and memories were made beneath their shade.
And when the humans joined the dragons, the line of trees became homes. Shelters and havens - places where the inhabitants could feel safe, could fall asleep. And when the storms came, the trees were the places to be - well and truly the selfless and giving beings that the mother tree had dreamed of since her days as a sapling.
She remained tall and strong, even as the dragons and humans slowly moved away from her. And she provided refuge to different beings - animals that needed her. She never once doubted her role, nor what she had to give. She was finally happy.
And, one day, a dragon and his son approached the tree. The older dragon smiled, placing a gentle claw on her bark. She felt a small spark of warmth inside her, and for an instant, her leaves shone an even brighter green. The younger dragon smiled. "Is this the tree, Father?" he asked eagerly, tentatively reaching out to touch it.
And the tree remembered the eyes of the dragon who, so long ago, had taken her to the clouds. His laugh, his kindness. The eyes of the older dragon were the same. "Yes, my son," he said, giving a smile of his own. "This is the tree."