All thoughts expressed here are either observances of Trout, or glimpses of her isolated thoughts. She has no language to speak them aloud.

April 18, 2013:

Excerpt from RP with Fletcher, regarding Lat's Vel.:

..."The-e-en I-I wi-i-ill n-o-ot try-y to-o-o-o-o-o-o he-elp hi-im... Bu-ut ho-ow ca-an I-I e-eve-er be-efr-i-iend hi-i-im i-i-if he-e wi-i-ill no-ot le-et me-e appro-o-oach hi-im? Wh-a-at ha-a-ppene-ed to-o hi-im?"

Fletcher is quite a few moments after she finished speaking.
"Sometime's it's best to let things happen as they will. Maybe he'll warm up to you eventually.."

Though he's not certain if it's at all a possibility, he knows her pushing herself upon him wasn't doing him too much good. "He may not want friends at this time." He adds, though is more of a spoken thought than anything else. He lingers on the last question a moment. "Life, I suppose. To all of us."

Trout furrowed her brows and let her lashes brush her cheeks. She nodded and rolled to one side, leaning gently against the great beast. The little unicorn reflected on his words, and she knew in her heart, that he was right. Still, some part of her fought the resignation.

"O-o-oh we-e-i-ght be-ear-er... I-it i-is beca-a-ause th-i-is li-i-ife is so-o fi-illed wi-ith pa-a-ain tha-at I-i e-enter th-a-at da-arkne-ess. I-i w-a-ant to-o-o ga-athe-er th-e-e flo-owers th-a-at gro-o-ow in the-e mi-idst o-of he-ell. "

She looked up at him, a stubborness shining like a light in her watery eyes. She turned then, and idly chewed at a matt in his pelt. Opening her heart to him. If he had any sorrow to give up to her in that moment, she would take some of that weight upon herself.

A gentle exhale is shoved out of Fletchers nostrils, though not out of any form of annoyance as she speaks. "Your heart is good, young one." But that is all he says. It's all he's prepared to say, and with that simple response would lay his head down and curve to the side as she turned herself and set to the clot of fur that was found.


Trout tilted her head at the stag, her eyelids softening in thought. She perceived a lesson here, and it was subtle and elusive.

She blinked in surprise as she grasped a new understanding. She continued to nose at the mat, her soft muzzle blowing air on his flank, but her eyes slid from side to side until they finally came to rest on his, her head drawing back to give him space.

He was choosing to keep his pain, to heal himself. He did not need to say it, his example spoke volumes, and as always, it was tactful and ever so gentle. An idle thought scampered through her mind to Oduvanchik. Perhaps she was not so unlike him after all.

Trout smiled softly and nodded once to show her understanding. She nosed his ear and curled up with her head upon his knee.

April 15, 2013:

(Currently involved in an Open RP on community forum.)

See: Dandelion Salad

March 30, 2014:

(interpretation of in forest events)

Trout had persisted... The compassion she felt for the great boorish bore was like a river, breaching its banks and flooding her thoughts. Something about the creature just bled. She knew at once, that she could never heal him... A bottomliss pit of weight hung around him though, and though she was only a small creature herself, she knew she could at least lighten the burden for a time.

And that was all she needed to know.

So when the unicorn found the "Broken Tower" sleeping, she sidled up beside him as quiet as her tiptoes could carry her, stepping carefully between twig and leaf, so that she could approach him. And with a gentle bend of her knees, she settled her tiny form against the beasts heaving flank. Minutes later he lurched to his feet and Trout fled. He pursued her until she reached the old Oak.

The whole time the beast chased her, she looked over her shoulder at him. Pure and untamed compassion in her countenance. She only looked ahead to dive into brush or dart around the trees she tried to keep between herself and the Broken Tower.

She waited the whole day. She paced around the valley only one hilltop away from the tree he seemed to haunt. She had not seen the boars small and sharptoothed friend at all. Trout began to think he may be lonely. Which soon led back to thought of helping him.

She returned. Resting a short distance away this time. She faced away from him. She did not know how to tell him, or speak to him. She could only persist. When he woke, the boar lunged at her. Unfortunately, Trout had been dosing off as well and as she startled, she lept into the boars step, rather than away, and be it by chance or by intent, she was knocked from her feet.

The unicorn paled. The color melted from her fur until she was as dusky and grey as the river under rainfall. And in that moment when the beast stood over her, looking her in the eyes, blowing angry hot breath from his elongated snout... Trout opened her heart. She attempted to swallow up all of the pain that she could carry, and with a crying bleat she scrambled to her feet and dashed away, hobbled by a limp.

She wasnt sure if the injury was sustained from the fall, or from his spirit.

March 27, 2014:

(interpretation of in forest events)

Trout kept finding the flow of forest life led her path near the boar without her even meaning to approach him. Even when she attempted to interact with other deer, she would look up to see she had strayed towards the brute again.

In these moments she would stand still and observe him. She did not know what else to do, and felt she couldnt hardly help herself. The creature was so deeply wounded, that she was drawn to him like a moth to a candle. She wanted to lend him her strength, at least for a little while.

At one point, Fletcher herded her off and she went, choosing a tree to retire to. She pawed at the leaf litter and when he trotted over to join her, she slipped past him to stare yet again, at the boar, who by now had acquired another curious companion to whom he seemed endeared.

"Weathers the storm" arrived later whilst Trout was lulled in and out of sleep. When she awoke, she celebrated his arrival and he settled down again beside Trout and her "Weight bearer". The little unicorn looked through the brambles to spy the "Broken Tower" as she had decided to call the boar. She thought to herself; he was very much a broken tower. The beast was stony and boorish, He was an impassable wall, save for where the tower was broken; where he was wounded... That was the only way in.

March 26, 2014:

Trout collapsed beside Fletcher, sweat was lathered on her flanks and chest. She had grown much since she had first met the stag, and he was dear to her heart, so when he had gently removed her from the troublesome boar she had been trying to approach, she had not put up a fuss. However, her eyes still pooled with emotion as she strained her neck to peer over at the beast. Clearly the little unicorn was feeling overwhelmed by her desire to help him, and the painful dichotomy of his aggressive reaction to her. To be spurned by someone you love is terribly painful, and Trout had the misfortune of feeling deep love for the most wayward of the forests creatures... until now, she had never been splashed with the icy reality of her calling. Rejection.

Still, Fletcher had always shown grace and tact with her, and soon the frustration passed and she was slumbering. Fletcher's heart beat in her ears and Trout dreamed of slow, low, drums.

March 25, 2014:

Trout was fortunate enough to meet Herla and a sleeping Kio today. She was overjoyed to meet another healer. Though the little unicorn struggled for a bit with her communication skills, she felt so blessed to discover that Herla had a fairly intuitive response to her. There were many many questions left unanswered, but the two resigned themselves to the comfort of company and simply enjoyed the forest. Trout knew she would not forget the does scent, and she would seek her out again.

After a bit, Kio woke and a small foxlike creature and a couple more does joined them. Soon enough, a small circle of dosing and reposed creatures had gathered in the low lying flowers that carpeted the forest floor. Trout felt that the universe had finally coalesced about her, and she could let go of her burden. A feeling like a river flooding its banks welled up on the shores of her heart, and all of the weight she had lifted from the wounded she had found in the forest began to depart.

This goodness, this content, this connection to others... This was the river as well.

March 25, 2014:

More Flickers... Trout has begun to feel that the forest is up to something. When the ghosts appeared near the old oak this time she nearly turned her heels to flee, but instead she bravely began to circle so that she could catch a good look at them. A white fawn and a desiccated fawn... the impact of such a dichotomy struck her still as a statue.

Trout ambled away, her eyes glancing back over her shoulder as she went. She needed to tell someone, but she couldnt imagine how...

March 23, 2014:

The little goaticorn was somewhat disturbed by a tree that she brushed up against. When she did so, over her shoulder she saw a flicker of movement... Shrugging it off, she circled and as she passed beneath the same tree... she saw it again. This time she circled deliberately, watching the small hill behind her. There.

Ghost like deer flickered on the ridge, for the blink of an eye, less than the blink of an eye, and were gone. Each time she circled, they were slightly different. Different deer, different postures, sometimes together, sometimes alone. Trout continued to circle, watching them in a still-frame movie. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Around and around. Full tilt, or they didnt appear.





When Trout realized what she was doing, she had been circling the tree insanely for so long she had attracted the attention of a number of fawns. She stopped, looking at them with an embarrassed bite to her lip, before tactfully moving off to think about what she had seen...

"Fli-i-i-ick-uh" She bleated out the word deliberately. "La" had begun to teach her how to say words. She had always understood others, but her own voice was not well suited to enunciation and speech. Nonetheless, she had found her bleats and brays did not do so well in some circles, particularly those of her more intellectual friends, and in an effort to be more well rounded in her communications, Trout had begged and bleated at the well read Doe until she had taught the young unicorn some sing song tunes so that she might try to wrap her voice around the sounds needed for speech.

"Fli-i-i-i-i-cker." She corrected herself. Because they did. And thats what she would call them if she ever saw them again. She was still unsure if she felt disturbed by it or not, but when she did eventually settle down for rest, she could not help but wonder who they were, and where... And if somewhere far away in another forest, they had just seen a small flickering unicorn under a very similar tree.

March 22, 2014:

Trout is nearly fullgrown now, though she is only as large as a tall goaticorn could be. She has seen much pain in the forest, and she has seen ghosts, glitches, gods, and she has had one thought pursuing her today: "This place is cursed. I must heal it but I am not shining brightly enough... "

March 14, 2014:

Trout spent some quality learning time with Weathers the storm and The Librarian today, fussing over the issue of the cut trees in the forest. The knowledgeable doe insisted that the stumps were meaningful, and the shaggy buck insisted they were valuable as perches.

In truth, Trout had never taken the time to consider the unnatural state the trees had been left in, but upon her mentors revelation, she found her own brow furrowing in concern. When the thoughtful doe presented a description of what she called a "glitch", Trout sprung to her feet helplessly attempting to show assent on that issue. She had also experienced some bizarre occurrences in the forest of late, and she felt at a loss on how to possibly explain this.

She resorted to fervent nodding and pawing at the others whenever either of them mentioned any example of mystery that she was familiar with, and the kid even went so far as to mimic the behavior of what she had come to call "hollow deer", by standing utterly still with a blank expression, in an attempt to indicate that these individuals seemed to not see the world around them, never slept, and were not affected by forest magic.

Eventually, Trout became frustrated with her poor communication skills and with some struggling bleats, she wearily slumped in the soil beside Weathers the storm.

March 7, 2014:

Trout had been idly marching the forest. She was following her gut again, and lo and behold, over the next rise she caught a flash of red. Ambling towards the pair, she slowed her pace. A palpable air of majesty fluxed about these two, and a subtle tension.

Trout slowly sidled near the pair of great red beasts, she sniffed about their heels; Two great stags. Perhaps, she thought, she had been drawn here to give her strength to one of them or both. They stood, greeted her kindly, and after some mingling one massive stag reared up and swung about, tearing off into the wood! The other peeled off in another direction, as if he knew where to catch him, and Trout trailed after her, struggling to keep up.



Sure enough, she regrouped with them both by the river, this pleased Trout greatly, and after frolicking and a good deal of kicking up heels, the pair settled in a wide sunspot. Trout still approached carefully, sensing that same tension. One of the beasts seemed to sense it as well, and nigh shooed Trout away. Apologetically she retreated, feeling somewhat heartbroken and confused, until the massive creature ambled over, giving reassurance.



Trout observed them considerately, it seemed this one was watching over the other, keeping others away with tosses of his crown and strong posturing. She felt her spirit warm towards the restless stag, this one, though somewhat broodish, was displaying a tough sort of love.

Not long after, "Weathers the Storm" arrived. He seemed immediately wise to the frightful pair, and though Trout was feeling deeply mixed, longing to lay beside all three of these individuals, she could not entice the stag to approach very close. He was wise. Trout chided herself for wishing the impossible, and recognized that she was being selfish in her desire to have it all. That did not dissipate her longing however, and she paced in anguish between her friend and the two she longed to lend her compassion and respect.



"Weathers the storm" seemed curious about what was bothering her, and trout let out a sob in frustration. She did not know how to explain. Gesturing at the pair, she sulked and nosed at his pelt, tugging at the fur as if to plead for forgiveness. If she could not explain, perhaps he would at least understand she was feeling torn. The buck seemed to comprehend, and he swept off a short distance to rest beside a nearby tree.

Trout would not settle... (then TEF crashed!)

Trout woke with a start, she felt as if the world had been torn out from underneath her, leaving her to sprawl madly on the forest floor. She shuddered and stood. Had she passed out? She stumbled over and helplessly sat beside the crimson duo who had now fallen fast asleep. Until she lifted her gaze to the forest...

There, not far off she noticed a rabbit crouching near the base of a tree. Trout walked carefully over, still a bit woozy and unsteady on her feet. Little did the kid know of the rabbits true form. She slumped down to rest beside the tiny creature and slipped into a dream.

When next she stirred, she was briefly startled to find that the rabbit had vanished and a rather massive creature, leathern wings folded to either side, was crouched beside her! Trout stood and nearly fell backwards, wondering if the poor rabbit had been eaten. However, the great fellow quickly rose and gestured peace. In some astonishment, trout neared and caught his scent. She felt like she had caught it somewhere before... but she couldn't be sure.

At last, "Weathers the Storm" reappeared, much to trouts delight. Trout once more tried to bring the two together, so that she might rest beside them both. The thick furred buck was much more agreeable this time, despite the monstrous appearance of this curious gentle giant. Trout sidled in between the two as they bent their knees to rest.

Trout was elated, and she couldn't quite explain why. Something about both of these individuals was so kind and protective, that she nearly felt surrounded by family, though she knew very little about the two. Both had mysteriously come into her life as watchful guardians. She contemplated this, and felt her heart brim over. Trout pledged that someday she would protect them too... And she etched their names and scent in her memory.

March 6, 2014:

Trout had been following her instinct. Some burrowing worm of concern had worked its way into her breast, to make her heart beat like a baby birds. She found the source eventually, it had to be this one. He was terrible in his glory, his ghastly crown setting atop his brow like a great forest of veins.

She felt her spirit stirr with caution. This was one of her "brothers", as she had begun to call them. A violent and isolated creature, to whom she would lend her strength. She wondered if they would understand, if any of them ever would... But no matter. To these monsters it was her duty to lend her compassion where none else would.

This one though... he was on edge. She could feel it in the air that seemed to grow ever still as she approached. He could end her life in a second. But that was part of her gift to them, to help share their burden somehow, and that meant a bit of vulnerability.

Of course, when she approached the stag, he moved away. She tried a second approach, this time sniffing carefully around the perimeter of his space, and laying down a small distance away. Again, the beast stood and moved off. Trout did follow, but at a distance. This one would take time. She settled down with her back to him, even further off. Her heart ached with distilled compassion, and unrequited efforts at peace. So this is what it felt like to be helpless. She could never force her compassion on anyone, and so, she let it overwhelm her once the beast had fallen asleep. She felt as if she could not contain her heart. It flooded, aching and invisible outward from her tiny frame.

She reminded herself again: this one would take time.



Trout eventually drifted into a restless sleep. She woke from time to time, noting prints in the earth nearby and a bizarre scent, only to slumber again. When next she woke, she found a young stag resting beside her. Lifting her gaze to him with sleepy eyes, she blinked in quiet confusion. He seemed to have a peculiar presence to him, something buried and unseen, but when she nosed at his thick coat he graciously gestured kindnesses in turn and she resigned herself to the much needed comfort. Her day had been arduous at best, and she slumped back to the forest floor to curl about his forelegs, simply exhausted.

March 3, 2014:

Trout listened intently to La as she recounted stories to her and the other fawns. When La began to speak of the Old Oak, Trout felt her skin crawl with fascination. She was in awe at the volumes of knowledge La possessed, and soon, Trout began to think of this one as a valuable mentor. La was blessed with a voice by the forest, and the wit to use it well. What most impressed the little fawn was how astutely La spoke, belaying an incredible amount of thought behind each of her tales.

March 2, 2014:

Trout woke beside the river, her fur slick with algae and water weeds. Aimlessly she wandered for some time, not knowing her purpose.

On the breeze a familiar scent greeted her, but it was stained with the scent of blood and sickly sweet infection. Picking up her pace to a brisk trot, her tiny goatlike form swept through the forest until she came upon her "weight bearer". She had come to know the stag by this name, and it seemed apt, as she had observed him tending to many with care, but rewarded by few. In fact, it had seemed that the beast had met with yet more troubled times.

Many of the wounds that had been healing were reopened, and though he had made some apparent attempt to clean them, she did not think the tax of the myriad new gouges in his flesh would allow for a clean recovery.

She approached slowly, nosing his flank in silence, her body language relaying her concern. She knew the brave beast may not know her well, but some portion of her heart had been set aside to look after him...

She did not understand her own nature yet, that to be born as she was would to be a healer, and to be a healer she would bear burdens of her own. She felt a brush with her fate there beside the stag. That she, small and meek, may be the caretaker of the strongest and most violent creatura of this wilderness.

She lay down beside the "weight bearer". Her knees buckling under a shuddering flood of compassion that nearly overwhelmed her. She would lend him her strength if he would have it. And as nature has oft provided, big miracles can be disguised as the meekest of wildflowers.

Febuary 27, 2014:

Trout wonders if she has perhaps found a friend... the strange stag she had spent the evening with reeked with the scabby coppery tang of healing wounds. She spent a few good deal of time resting peacefully beside the beast, occasionally mouthing at his pelt to smooth it over the dried blood. She even playfully defended their respite from a pair of oddballs who persisted to rub their hinds rudely on her favored acquaintance. Once they had dispersed, she slipped her slender neck under the stags chin and lifted it in encouragement. He quite graciously motioned for her to settle, and after doing so, she found peace again. She has decided to remember this one. She would like to, against all odds, lend him her gratitude in the only way she knows;

Compassion.

Febuary 22, 2014:

Today the forest has given birth to Trout. She does not know who or what she is, nor does she realize her destiny. However, she has instinct as her father; guiding her. She has the river, her mother; inspiring her. In fact, it was up from a rather small hollow under the riverbank that Trout was born. The details behind this phenomenon are not clear, but much in this forest is mysterious. As such, one of Trouts first actions upon rising from the rush of water was to take the name of the fish that had been her brothers. The light that rose from her crown swam wildly about her before settling upon her brow, fixed brightly in the shape of a strong river fish, its tail sweeping downwards. Welcome to the Forest, Trout, the rivers daughter.