The forest has been around for ages. Centuries, perhaps. As timeless as it was endless, sweeping over into it's four seasons without a proper counting of the day, the sun and moon slicing through the colored skies above the canopy of leaves.

He had tried to count. It didn't make sense. The days didn't add up, every season the number was different, from the moment the first flower bloomed to the sight of the first brown leaf touching the ground. It was very agitating to not get it right, but the others didn't see. Why should they? As they frolic through the flower beds without a care in the world, not knowing their exact age or when the cold would roll down from the north?

But he, he cared. He knew things. Words at the back of his mind that he knew the meaning of, like mountain and valley, cliff and meadows... So why weren't there any -here-? In this vast, flat and yet somehow repeating arrangement of trees and establishments that simply couldn't have been created by them. He wondered... He wondered if there was something out there, beyond the woods, these words he knew that drove him angered and mad.

That drove him insane.

The dreamers avoided getting in discussions with him, those worried and kind tried to convince him to eat and drink instead of trying to break through this fictional wall he had fabricated in his mind. He walked days, months, stumbling on his skinny legs until they couldn't carry him further. They helped him to get sheltered from the cold and the stags who sought to duel.

He sneaked off while they slept. He forced himself to the pond, wanting to continue where he left off.

He never got past the pond.

Between the old willow and the rest of the forest stood a stag, scraping it's hooves over the ground. It charged at him without a warning, turned around on it's front legs and kicked.




A loud buzzing filled his ears. He couldn't turn his head, how odd... He was falling. He stared towards the forest, turning over and up, as he tumbled down the slope of the pond. He could barely make out the twin statues in the distance.... Before he hit the water. Freezing cold seeped through his pelt, filling his ears and nose, he tried to keep it out. He hadn't had the chance to breathe. The murky green water turned darker as he sank, kicking his weak legs, but slowly stopped, as he came to a horrible realization.

This was the only way to exit the forest.

He took a deep breath.

And found out that he was wrong.

The old magic of the pond. He forgot about that. The same magic that turned them into frogs whenever they swam too deep, took hold of him. Changed him. It was too dark to see. That cold, that freezing cold filled him up from ears to tail, his lungs fighting under the heavy weight of the water. He could feel the warmth in his chest slowly fading, until the sound of his own heart slowed... And died.





Alusan woke up.

He picked himself off the ground, planting his hoof on the forest floor without a sound. That dream again. He rested against a nearby tree, scraping the tough skin.. Pelt... Fur?... Against the bark, leaving nothing. Another day of wandering.

Whoa...

*whispers*
Was this the guy we saw at the bottom of the pond?

Hi. That animation is incredible.

Tracking this so hard ~

Yay!

track!

e: boop