They lived under ground. They had been for as long as anyone could remember, for as long as their legends and myths could tell. Outside the moon was shining, creating beautiful silhouettes of the tree tops towards the night sky.
They were waiting. Waiting for the sign.
-The roots will some day speak, the Elder said, as he had done so many full moons. -That’s the day we will move out into the open.
-How do you know? a little child asked, looking at him with big, curious eyes.
-It’s the prophecy, my child. The prophecy says that one night, at full moon, the roots will speak. Then we will know it’s time to move on.
They waited for a long time, until the moon went down and the sun was lighting up the sky in the horizon.
The roots hadn’t spoken tonight either.