Trees aren’t afraid of the fire. Some live to a thousand years before they’re ready to fall over, or spontaneously combust, having long observed their heritage and extended family growing up all around them — while their seeds of progeny were quietly amassing in the earth among their roots.
They’ve survived ice ages and cataclysmic events. Observers across epochs and the eons in between.
Humans introduced a different kind of variable, but they weren’t terribly concerned. Their patience and countenance is far greater than the ages and millennia mortal species tend to exist.
They understand the nature of things, sharing time and space with a broad array of flora and fauna, of spore and mycology. Time is a cohort, a companion. They do not count the hours, years, decades and centuries. The simply live. They breathe, transmute the atmosphere and reshape the soil, reach for the sky, and live.
They welcome the challenges and opportunities afforded them through the grand scheme of life on this planet. Even if forced modifications occur on microscopic levels, they will eventually return to their natural selves, whether within one generation, or twenty. Life can abide any and all interference. It’s a curiosity at best. And it never lasts.
The trees aren’t afraid of the fire.