Tilly and Monkey stumbled into the clearing and froze. A banana tree bowed low, its branches heavy with yellow fruit. A ripe banana peeled itself with a soft pop and landed at Tilly's shell.
Monkey's nose wiggled. He reached for the biggest bunch, then stopped. His fingers hovered. The tree shivered in the breeze and dropped two more perfect fruits into the grass.
He looked at Tilly's slow, steady gaze, then back at the bananas. The tree shivered again and dropped two more perfect fruits right beside Tilly's shell.
Tilly nudged the bananas toward Monkey with her nose, then tapped the ground twice. Tap. Tap. Monkey's ears perked up. He picked one banana, broke it in half, and offered the bigger piece to Tilly.
They sat side by side peeling and eating until their bellies were round and yellow-stained. Monkey grinned, wiped his mouth on a leaf, and pointed to the grass.
A tiny green sprout pushed through the soil where the seeds had fallen. Monkey stared at it, his eyes wide. The turtle watched too, quiet and still.
Next season, a small banana tree stood in the clearing. Tilly and Monkey watered it every morning, and by afternoon, the leaves rustled with the promise of more sharing to come.
Monkey tipped the little watering can, and water poured over the roots. Tilly watched, her eyes bright. The leaves trembled and reached higher.
Every morning they came back to the same spot. The tree grew a little taller. The leaves grew a little wider. And the air smelled sweet.
By afternoon, the leaves rustled in the breeze. Tilly tilted her head and listened. Monkey smiled. The tree was ready to share again.
One morning, a single yellow banana swayed at the end of a low branch. It curled gently, then — pop — it split open and rolled onto the grass.
Monkey broke it in half and gave the bigger piece to Tilly. They sat together in the sweet shade, and the tree rustled above them, happy.
