SCREAM.

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Child of the Forest.
Nine, was it?
Though I never met you, the plants carry many stories of you.
These stories, interesting and dramatic, have stirred me beyond comparison.

Small and light,
Friendly, and caring.
Swayed by the hulking beast,
Lost in his absence.

You are truly an interesting one, Nine.
I have desired to meet you for the longest time.
But alas, as of late, I have not seen you much.
And this time of year is no time for endless walks besides.

However, I heard shocking news in the wake of a winter morn.
"He is fading away, Nechtan."
Such is what the plants whispered, even as I slept.
Yet I ignored it, preferring sleep over the cold.

It wasn't until I heard a crowd of hooves crash upon the ground,
And I heard the cries of many, that something within me rebukied my slumber.
"His mask...?! It's Nine's mask! No...he can't be..."
Indeed, the plants knew long before the deer did.

Your helm, whole and untouched, save for a smidge of dirt,
Rested upon the ground.
Leaving only a set of tracks,
And traces of white fur.

I was at a loss for words.
Slowly, surely, I make my way to the Playground, untouched by hooves.
I stand upon the rock, jetted out like a canyon's ledge.
And it is here, for the first time in a long time...

I cried out.

I pray you are safe, wherever you are.
I know that someday, your form will grace the Forest again.
For now, however, I await the coming of Spring.
And the unknown return of you.

Shoot me. I don't give a damn.