Surprisignly, it seems despite the place becoming more aesthetically pleasing, it shalt also be growing smaller in size. The playground shalt disappear, in order for it to last an alleged ten years longer. Was it worth it? Something tells me the gods hath forsaken this place. There is a drip-feed of sustenance arising from the ground to feed them, but something tells me it shalt not be enough. I hope I am proved wrong in time, but regardless, expansion is unlikely. I shalt abide a time to remember, and then see if new climes bear perusal.

He awakes at a place hitherto unknown, sure as he was when he slept idly by the idols that he had spanned the breadth of the place... water drips upon his head, and he shakes it to find his fur now feathers. With the power of shaken instinct, he propels this foreign form through the air and away from the odd stream of water ostensibly projecting itself from the earth. This all came to a close as he crossed a circle and fell to his face.

"Things seem to have changed" he thought, and moved furtively on his way...

The fawn awakens in this strange environment he shalt soon call home. Bewildered by the tranquility of the scene, he does not move immediately, but instead surveys his surroundings. The trees are rich with life and the very forest floor bustles with the frenzied activities of the myriad of creatures spread throughout its thatch work.

Feeling somewhat more grounded, he takes his first tentative steps into this lucid locale. Finding nothing at first but the endless trees themselves, he begins to wonder if he is, in fact, alone. Distantly he hears a rumbling, as if the earth itself doth tremble. Again and again he hears this, scared beyond belief and yet morbidly intrigued. His curiosity envelops his fear and he heads forth to investigate.

Stumbling through a patch of rocks he shalt soon know as "the playground", he is led inexorably on by this rumbling, now faintly resembling coherence. He thinks he can discern a benign tone in the vibration, but proceeds no quicker for this epiphany.

Gradually, grudgingly, a ruin arises 'twixt the shades of the o'er-arching boughs. What mind or creature could create such structures, he ponders. But the sound is definitely coming from within, so he suspends such thought for the time being, and presses on. Within the centre of the ruin, and seemingly equally as ancient, a proud stag with archaic antlers and a sagacious expression perches upon a plinth. The fawn instantly heralds his superior and prostrates.

The stag seems pleased by his humility, and slowly wanders towards the perimeter, slow enough to insinuate its wish for its new friend to follow. The fawn stumbles along the rocky ground, but obediently respects this unspoken request. The stag stops by a rock that is somehow different from the others, and motions for the fawn to investigate further.

I hath just today acquired this intriguing virtual gateway, and I must profess that 'tis rather perplexing at best being so short of stature and thin of chest, but still, I continue on and hope for the best, 'til before the Heathen Idols I lay me down to rest.