As the days grew colder and longer, one could see that it was the middle of fall in the Forest. The leaves, though unchanging, appeared brittle. Flowers, though blooming, did not grow any longer. The lake whose water was warm now ran cold. Autum had come to the Forest, and so did its festivities.

Every so often, a large stag would roam the forest. His head had rotted away leaving nothing but bone. His pelt, once a beautiful brown, was now gray. Not lifeless, yet, but no more vibrant than the moss of the Shrine. Parts of his pelt had fallen away and left clotted red patches with bone sticking through. The most prominent, and maybe the scariest part, of his peculiar features, were his large fleshy-red moose-like antlers. A human would guess that his rack was around 8ft long, maybe more. To Aetaine and the other deer however, they just knew they were large, would get plenty of attention from the females (where ever they are), and they prayed to the twin gods that they'd never be turned on them.

Or not, Aetaine, supposed because when Velocity fell into a sleep, wrapped in the warm mist for a blanket, all the deer in the forest would come by, cast magic on him, and become into his image. He could not fathom why. When he asked he was told it was in honor of a holiday most have long forgotten, and he was still no closer to figuring out what THAT meant, so he eventually lost interest and just played along. And then one day Velocity slept close by the playground, his mist suffocating the place... and he saw bright lights, many of them. Intrigued, he came closer and found candles, all lit up and beautiful. He turned his black, masked head to Velocity and smiled. For such a fearsome creature he doesn't leave chaos in his wake. As he stared at the candles, not minding the silence, he began to tire. And when his eyes and legs would no longer support him, he too slept.


Red eyes slowly opened and they saw shadows. It was dark. There were no lights.

Hey, before you read, and you do not know anything about Pierce's past history, you'll probably get confused. Here are two stories which will explain his past. Read them in order.

Part one
Part two

Under the cut.

It was within the echoes of the empty forest that solace was found. Quiet breath mimicked gentle waves here. The swaying motions that accompanied breathing almost mimed the rocking of a boat if one felt themselves grow detached from their earthly bodies in just the right way. Was there truly a right way?

Gulls bob on the ocean, the white boat seeming to wish to be one itself. Waves that were colored by the sky's reflection lapped gently upon the hull. Lake breezes swept up nostrils and caused gentle sighs. Only a slight plop was heard as the fishing lure hit the water.

Was it the lure, or did an acorn hit the earth nearby? Ears pricked in that direction only could confirm it was when the pattering of little squirrel feet was heard. The clicks of their chattering barely broke the silence.

The clicks of the mast and sail echoed over the land. Bright white and tall, it stretched toward the sun and began to call out, flapping in the wind and driving the boat on. Lures great and small trailed behind the boat, strumming tightly with each time they contacted the rod.

Like the click of a woodpecker against the trunk of a tree, the flapping of a bird against the air with its wing, it all was constant and added to the echoes of the forest, not so empty as once thought.


Supposed you could compare this place to a boat on the water. It was worth the giggling, assuredly. The stag lay himself against the ground to sleep, to dream of open water and floating gulls one more time.

Today being the Lightbringer's Convention, I felt -- as I always do when deer gather, in light or dark, to share in everything the forest is meant for -- I had to write something for such a lovely sight. In this case, I wrote a pair of small poems.



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