The Lorax is back.

The Swomme-swans honked loudly, startling humans tending to the truffula trees as they took off, heading in the direction of the hole in the sky.

The Lorax is back.

Bar-ba-loots looked up from where they trundled and played with each other. The littlest one on top a stack squeaked loudly, and the entire stack swayed as they moved in the direction of the street of the Lifted Lorax.

The Lorax is back.

The Humming Fish hadn't yet returned home- the goo and the gunk in the water made it hard to yet return- but as they swam up the river, humming away, the news passed down along the way-

The Lorax is back!

Once-ler sighed tiredly as he hefted the giant watering can. Swoome-swans had reappeared, as did a few bar-ba-loots, each carrying a precious seed. Ted had brought a few, and planted them overnight, before the Once-ler could protest. Other trees were popping up now that the air was finally clean enough that it could actually rain.

Still, they needed caring, and he… he was waiting. He had been waiting for a long time.

He wasn't- he couldn't be the one to plant the last seed. He didn't deserve it; he couldn't possibly take care of it properly. And nobody would care about one old tree, way out in the middle of nowhere.

Instead it was a boy, a young boy that looked the same as he did back then, who had taken the tree to the center in town, and planted it. He had shown everyone the world outside.

It wasn't something he could have done. He'd locked himself up, that first week. Refused to come out of his Lurkim though many came to knock at his door. Most left the Lurkim alone now, though Ted dropped by every now and then. But really- all he wanted was him.

Once-ler wanted his friend back. To know that his damage was truly being undone. To see time being rewound.

A bright orange bird shot past him, a grin carved into its beak. He straightened from his bent, watching it go, before looking down sadly at the carved rock at his feet. He still wasn't back.

A cool sensation trickled down his back, tickling at his consciousness, the forest going completely still.

Slowly he turned, hand lifting to shield against the sun. It can't be. It absolutely couldn't be. He had stood here more then once, staring out across the rolling hills as small tufts of soft green grass fought back the grickle grass. He stood here and waited, looking for a small orange form.

It had never appeared, not even once… and yet, as he stood here and waited, he felt the same sensation he had felt when the Lorax first grabbed himself by the seat of his pants and lifted up, far and away. A quiet little whispering that spoke of magic, ancient magic, old and deep, as old as the world… perhaps older.

"What are you doing, you old fool, he isn't going too come back to you." The Once-ler groused to himself, but kept his eyes on the sky.

Bar-ba-loots slowly climbed their way towards the hill, as Swoome-Swans landed nearby. Humming fish could be heard splashing upstream towards where the hill stood.

And there- high and way up there, in a beam of light that shone down, was a bright orange creature.

He was oldish, and shortish, with a thick mustache. He seemed like he would be bossy. He knew that voice would sound slightly mossy. And yet- "Hey beansprout."

The Lorax is back.

Green gloves wrapped around the short creature, pulling him close. Small arms hesitated for a moment, before hugging back as well.

My friend is back.

a/n: Just a little practicing foray into this particular fandom. We'll see how well it goes altogether.