Archaon
01-13-08, 04:58 PM
The sky stretched on infinite and clear beneath an early morning sun. Only the thinnest clouds blocked the sky’s eye, until its rays collided with the thick forest below. Light shattered against leaves, leaving the rich loam of the forest floor dappled with light and shadow, but nowhere darkness. The morning light found Rûn walking lightly down a deer trail. His footsteps made no sound in the soft soil, his passage greeted only by the joyous cries of the woodland birds and the rustle of the wind through the trees.
Rûn smiled happily, and a laugh escaped his lips. There was no feeling greater than entering the forest, than feeling the pressure, the glow of life all around you. It had rained last night, and the air smelled like water and mud. It smelled fresh, new. Rûn always loved the forest in the morning, but today it felt different. Brighter, more awake, and more exciting. He supposed it seemed that way because he was finally going. His whole life had been spent near home, and to finally be headed away had him not just elated, but full of a strange relief, like a tension he had never realized was present loosened its grip.
He was less than a league from the little house where he grew up, and still in wholly familiar territory, surrounded by tracks and groves he had walked countless times. But still it felt different, as if the world was changed by his departure, or, perhaps merely shaded by eyes looking beyond its borders.
He quickened his pace, hoping to reach the unknown in the next few days. He had chosen to head northeast because he knew the least about what lay in that direction. He harbored little more than vague dreams of adventure and was content to let his feet carry him where they would. Maybe he would travel to Radasanth, or even the home of the elves.
An hour later he came across a small creek, burbling merrily over roots and rocks, and followed its silver path for the rest of the day. He awoke the next morning, startling a doe that drinking a few feet away. He bathed in the creek and continued on his way. Eventually the creek fed into a river that cut it’s way south through the woods. It didn’t have a name that he ever heard, but then, he didn’t understand people’s obsession with naming everything in sight. He turned up it without particular purpose or thought. It didn’t much matter where he went, everything led somewhere.
It was with visions of slaying wurms and rescuing beautiful girls in slightly torn silk dresses that he stepped into the clearing. The sheer weight of the place hit him like a hammer. For an instant the air felt like water, and Rûn had a sickening drowning sensation before the feeling was swept away. In the center of the clearing a pool lay, fifteen strides across at least, fed by a tiny brook slipping between a trail of rocks at the far side of the water. The trees around him were huge and ancient, and beneath them all undergrowth fled. But near the water, life exploded. Sword ferns and horsetails choked the edge of the pool, and moss grew thick on the rocks near the brook. Brilliant red water flowers stood everywhere, and farther from the pool armies of tiny blue flowers did battle with huge white and orange ones.
A slight twinge of unease pressed through the wonder, a sense that he was trespassing. The bizarre paranoia had him casting a glance over his shoulder, and he realized that the trees brooding behind him looked in no way familiar, and he had no recollection of walking past them. Reaching out, he touched an old oak, its lower branches so heavy they sagged nearly to the ground. His fingers stretched over its bark, and he was struck by a feeling of repulsion that gave way beneath a strange sort of grudging acceptance.
He smiled slightly to himself. At least he was someplace new.
Rûn smiled happily, and a laugh escaped his lips. There was no feeling greater than entering the forest, than feeling the pressure, the glow of life all around you. It had rained last night, and the air smelled like water and mud. It smelled fresh, new. Rûn always loved the forest in the morning, but today it felt different. Brighter, more awake, and more exciting. He supposed it seemed that way because he was finally going. His whole life had been spent near home, and to finally be headed away had him not just elated, but full of a strange relief, like a tension he had never realized was present loosened its grip.
He was less than a league from the little house where he grew up, and still in wholly familiar territory, surrounded by tracks and groves he had walked countless times. But still it felt different, as if the world was changed by his departure, or, perhaps merely shaded by eyes looking beyond its borders.
He quickened his pace, hoping to reach the unknown in the next few days. He had chosen to head northeast because he knew the least about what lay in that direction. He harbored little more than vague dreams of adventure and was content to let his feet carry him where they would. Maybe he would travel to Radasanth, or even the home of the elves.
An hour later he came across a small creek, burbling merrily over roots and rocks, and followed its silver path for the rest of the day. He awoke the next morning, startling a doe that drinking a few feet away. He bathed in the creek and continued on his way. Eventually the creek fed into a river that cut it’s way south through the woods. It didn’t have a name that he ever heard, but then, he didn’t understand people’s obsession with naming everything in sight. He turned up it without particular purpose or thought. It didn’t much matter where he went, everything led somewhere.
It was with visions of slaying wurms and rescuing beautiful girls in slightly torn silk dresses that he stepped into the clearing. The sheer weight of the place hit him like a hammer. For an instant the air felt like water, and Rûn had a sickening drowning sensation before the feeling was swept away. In the center of the clearing a pool lay, fifteen strides across at least, fed by a tiny brook slipping between a trail of rocks at the far side of the water. The trees around him were huge and ancient, and beneath them all undergrowth fled. But near the water, life exploded. Sword ferns and horsetails choked the edge of the pool, and moss grew thick on the rocks near the brook. Brilliant red water flowers stood everywhere, and farther from the pool armies of tiny blue flowers did battle with huge white and orange ones.
A slight twinge of unease pressed through the wonder, a sense that he was trespassing. The bizarre paranoia had him casting a glance over his shoulder, and he realized that the trees brooding behind him looked in no way familiar, and he had no recollection of walking past them. Reaching out, he touched an old oak, its lower branches so heavy they sagged nearly to the ground. His fingers stretched over its bark, and he was struck by a feeling of repulsion that gave way beneath a strange sort of grudging acceptance.
He smiled slightly to himself. At least he was someplace new.