There are a lot of things Wes can predict, but being transported somewhere entirely new was on the smallest, most improbable of probabilities. Similar to how, yes, reasonably, there is a percentage chance for an elephant to drop out of the sky and crush you whole—but the chance is so miniscule that it'd never happen. And yet, here he was, turning over an assortment of leaves and twigs he's gathered in a manner that makes him look like a lunatic to the average passerby; crouched down in the dirt and shifting them about with a hand. Fossils, plants that had thought to have vanished without a trace with the old world—all here, beneath his calloused fingertips, standing strong and tall as though the end times never came. Like his entire life had passed by in a fever dream. Even more baffling were the genuses of plants that, as far as he can tell, shouldn't exist. Mocking him with their vibrantly colored leaves, not only defying expectation, but thriving in it.
Undiginified, huddled over plant samples, with sweat that rolls down his tense brow. He grabs his hair, rocking back and forth on his heels in distressed contemplation. World's most insane tree identifying hobbyist?
