It did not understand the confusion and chaos around it. They were arguing, but why? The little monkey and the pink-eyed ones seemed so hesitant. It did not think there was anything to fear. The Visitor was lovely, and the Rift was lovely, and it loved them all. It was like a distracted hiker as it scampered through the snowy forest, lifting its face toward the moon to feel the pale light illuminate its form without heat--something the orbs never did. It opened its mouths and tasted the cool, crisp wind on its tongue. Its snake tail flicked upward and caught a snowflake in its teeth, which soon melted into a delightful dewdrop of clear water.

It chirped at the worried, quarreling group, a cheerful, sweet sound meant to reassure. "It is only a story!" it exclaimed, finally scuttling to arrive at the broken wagon behind all the others. "Open it! It will make things interesting, if nothing else!" Without waiting for a response, it inched closer and reached out a chitinous arm to touch the talismans and sigils in the wood. How odd! How fascinating!

What a strange, yet wonderful new world!

It seemed they were divided with decent arguments on both sides, but the narrator pushed the story forward:

"Ultimately, it is determined you shall free him. The sigils and seals begin to glow, disintegrating in dusty clouds of light and the wagon door creaks open. An ancient spirit, its body an ethereal shimmer, rises from its tomb and thanks them before it is swept away in a breeze. The million tired eyes finally close and a relieved sigh breathes through the Palewood, like it had been holding its breath this whole time. In the distance, you hear the shuffling of bird wings. You are uneasy, but it feels like you did the right thing."

"This is the tale of the forgotten, who have died beneath the final winter's snow, which would never again thaw; their bodies lost to permafrost, but alive in a world we will never know: apart from this realm and the End..."

The scene shifts, the road before them empty again, the moonlight beautiful like the light at the end of a tunnel. Relieved of its curse, the forest life slowly emerges, small critters dancing through the underbrush and the faraway chittering of living creatures dancing through the night.

"A dilapidated ruin yawns before you. That is where this tale takes us next. Perched at its entrance is a figurine, it is a lamb. Scratched into the stone beneath it are the words: YOU WILL FIND IT. They seem to have been added recently, the effort with which to etch them into frozen stone immense. Beyond it is a staircase that descends into the ruins... but should you go around, the forest opens into a sparse meadow."

POLL EVENT: ENTER THE RUINS?
Cast your votes here!

> YES: descend the stairs into the ruins
> NO: steer clear and go around

Next post: May 25th

Reward unlocked!
The ancient spirit was freed and life returned to the Palewoods.

Is your parent a big white deer-dragon creature who's very good at magic, perchance? You seem quite familiar...

Alek's attention shifted away from uneasiness to intrigue at the words of the feline. "Yeah! That sounds like one of my parents, Cadenza. They've got antlers like me but without the glowing bits, and they can actually fly unlike me... And they're really strong with magic! Do you know my dad, too? His name is Sprig!"

His attention is yet again drawn back to the voice when the narrator begins to speak once again. Freeing the voice... He's still uncertain about it. But it seems like it will happen. And yet, the opposite of something bad happens. Instead, a wondrous spirit slips out of the carriage, and Alek gazes with awe. He is speechless, but he notes the life has returned to the forest.

The young aquatic dragon wonders why anyone would want to trap a kind seemingly nature-linked spirit such as that.

Absorbed in the success, Alek already knows what path he wants to take here at the ruins. He doesn't really get how scratches in stones can be words, but if the narrator says so, then they must be. It's a bit odd that they're recent additions, though, he supposes.

But he cares little for that. "We should go in!" He proclaims with all the excitement of a child. "I want to find out whatever 'it' is!"

See? It didn't hurt them. Pollen knew what she was doing.

Ears flick up as the world blossoms to life around them. They have done the right thing. Leaving her vines alone, Pollen gives a pointed glance to the group before continuing onward. They don't need to be afraid! Staring to the lamb, Pollen looks it over before looking past it and towards the ruins.

"There's no point going around. Why would it be outside that place if the statue's right at the entrance?" She makes to place her paw against the frozen stone the statue stands on, hissing inwardly and drawing back as the temperature sets in.

She shakes it out and flexes her digits back to warmth. They don't have magic to find it, but... they have to find it, don't they? It'd be best to not split themselves up, since enough of them are wary about the world to halt an entire group, most likely. Should she be more wary? ... No. She's ready to go in.

"I'm voting in." Even if they don't have light, it's their better shot.

Well, Yvan isn't much input. Lifting his claws, he holds his hands together and let them worry over one another, tailtip flicking uneasily. The forest restoring is doing little to ease him, but— ... actually, it does help.

Breathing in, Yvan holds the crisp air in his lungs before breathing it out slowly. It's fine. It's all fine. He's not a nervous wreck. He's brave! He can be brave.

He sets his jaw and walks closer to the group. Steady paws keep him trodding along with fists balled at his hips, keep him carrying forward until they've come to another choice. Another choice, and— he'll be brave. Staring towards the stairs, Yvan furrows his brows and speaks a little louder, with a little more intent.

"I'm going down." He points to the stairs, then glances back to the others. ... not that he'd go without the group, but... caution, alright? "Let's go?" He's at the mercy of their story too.

They had made the correct choice-- so why was Casimir filled with dread? He wanted to play along, to be filled with the easy going confidence and optimism that came so naturally to his siblings, but even as the forest sounds returned, his claws kneaded the cold earth under paw.

The lamb statue that stood ahead of them with a promise etched into the stone made him hesitate again. "If we're going to find "it" regardless," Cas mumbled, his voice overshadowed by the more determined gembound around, "can we not go into the place that's about to collapse?" His skepticism burned in his chest; it felt like they were being lulled into a false sense of security.

He glanced toward his father, nervousness written all over his face.

It had been a good decision. Sakhira watches in amazement as the scene changes once more, this time to a ruin bathed in moonlight. The voice says some things about a 'tale' and finding something. Something which is not named. Sakhira has no hesitation in her answer. "Let's go in." although there is a slightly eerie feeling to the whole place, she is curious to see what's inside. After all, it's not very often you find ruins. Ruins with weird writing in front. If they were to take the path of the meadow it wouldn't be very interesting would it?

For once, Giggle was not the 'wise old grandma' offering intelligent advice. Instead, when the scene shifted, she was doing her damndest to gnaw off a piece of frozen horse leg--and when the horses vanished, she looked around with an indignant "Hey!"

Juggernaut's stare went unnoticed, primarily because she'd turned away; she didn't hate the Hive, and wasn't prowling after him and glaring or something. She just thought the whole slavery thing was kind of stupid, and looked down on the fungus and all of that. Cleaning Canis was a bitch.

But the words of the stranger gave her pause in her horse-eating-irritation.

"This is the tale of the forgotten, who have died beneath the final winter's snow, which would never again thaw; their bodies lost to permafrost, but alive in a world we will never know: apart from this realm and the End..."

There was something incredibly poetic about that--maybe too poetic, something almost musical and bittersweet and beautiful. She straightened, expression going from flippant to solemn, gaze turning toward the ruins. Instincts and old, bad memories screamed against it. It looked dark. Enclosed. That was... bad. And when she tried to summon up a wisp to provide them light, she found the magic failing. Is it just that-? Failing? Or is something stopping it? she wondered.

And those words. To be forgotten. What a terrible fate. Although--how could someone be both dead, and alive elsewhere-?

"No one should be forgotten," she offered gruffly, flicking a fleabitten ear, and then grimaced. "How are they alive and dead?" Then she braced herself, taking a step toward the ruins. Oh, she did not want to go in there... but it seemed wrong to leave others dead and forgotten.

...Or will that be us, if we go in? she wondered, pausing in her place, uncertain.

Pride was silently attentive, a sense of misgiving shifting in his chest as he saw the sigils and understood what they must mean. A hoof stepped quickly backwards, but-... no; no, this one was not a danger. Why imprison them, then? he wondered. The shuffling of bird wings, too, made him think. Emuh..? Was this another Trial, the world shifting around them as it had done there in Polaris--some new form of transcendence..?

He was distracted from his thoughts by Mossie's words, and rather than interrupt he listened with amusement to Alek's answer. He leaned in to give Mossie a brief nod, adding afterward, "I am the 'deer' in question. Cadenza is my child." Making, of course, Alek his grandchild. "I am Pride; it is good to meet you." It was an offhand introduction, made out of politeness, and then he had moved carefully on: this time to seek the mentioned carving, to compare the supposed inscription with what he knew of reading and words.

red deer img credit - dan seagrave

Lumut ignored all else--not that she wasn't watching, or paying attention, exactly. She just didn't react, accepting it all with a placid gentleness that suggested she thought she was completely safe here (for whatever reason). When the wagon vanished, she was knuckle-walking--reaching gently--for the spirit.

But then the scene had shifted, and she shuffled down the empty path, peering at the moonlit trees, and up at the sky above. Was it a sky? Were there cave walls, or stars, or darkness?

She seemed unafraid of the concept of ruins, almost obediently pushing up again to shuffle forward. It was, to her, a story being told. And she held the words of the visitor in her mind, savoring them, turning them over as she reached innocently for the next chapter.