Ezaran

Smoke rose from the charring bracken with every step he took.

He had to keep moving. In a place as forested as this, lingering for even a few moments would generate so much heat that a blaze would spring up at his feet. It had happened before – and he was tired of watching forests burn to the ground around him.

He had no idea why he’d been made this way. For surely, he was a made thing – he did not remember a childhood, he did not remember parents. All he remembered was the walk, the eternal walk, looking for some place to rest, to be, to belong.

He had tried for more moons than he could count, but so far he had found nothing but fear, destruction and rejection.

So he kept walking.

Leaves curled and singed as they brushed against his vivid green hide. Waves shimmered off him, distorting sound and light. Dew sizzled as it dripped off the trees above onto his back, boiling into vapor, and then nothingness.

He shouldn’t be a living thing. But live he did. And he kept walking.

Following…something.

There was something strange, about this part of the forest. Something was there besides the trees, besides the animals and tearful breeze. Something lurked in the shadows, watching him…inviting him.

That was what he followed.


Mist rose about him, and soon the constant hiss of vapor was the only noise. He turned his head, this way and that – shadows and forest were blending into one in this strange, formless forest. Was it natural for mist to rise with such swiftness? And such thickness? Soon he wouldn’t be able to see the end of his nose, if it kept on like this…

Soon, the end of his nose hit a wall of stone, making him stop and step back in surprise.

Aware of the heating mud under his claws, Ezran stepped back, stretching his neck to its full length to look up at the building before him. Stone, old stone, moss covered, scratched and often repaired. Multi-storied, this building was ancient and, he felt…somehow sacred.


And there was a light burning at once of the windows.

He almost turned away – to try again would surely mean nothing but another rejection. But that feeling…of something calling him on…

He did turn, but only to the door. He stood on the stone doorstep, took a deep breath, sighed out a cloud of heated vapor and raised a claw to knock-

But the door was flung open before he could so much as touch it. He blinked in surprise as a skull-masked mirror declared, “Ah, THERE you are! Most honored guest! Most treasured of souls! Please! Do us the honor of entering our humble abode!”


The fellow bowed, his great spread of antlers almost grazing Ezaran’z luminous chest. Ezaran stared at him, “You…are expecting me?” His voice cracked – it had been days since he’d spoke to anyone at all.


“Of course!” The mirror said, his stance somehow conveying a warm smile despite the mask. “For ages now! We have everything prepared – food, water, a place for you to sit and rest. We even cleared the rugs for you!”

“Rugs?”

“Yes, rugs!” The mirror chuckled. “Don’t want to start a fire, do we?” He tapped his skull with a tok-tok noise, and said, “Cerva was very insistent! Said you would prefer not to be around anything flammable.”

Cerva. He knew at once that name belonged to the whisper of a presence that had guided him here. “I see,” he said at last.

The mirror beamed at him, and stepped aside, holding the door open wide for him. “Won’t you come in? Have something to eat? I’m sure you’re just dying to get off your feet for a time.”


Ezaran, still not believing his luck, stepped forwards into the stone hallway. “Indeed,” he said. “I am. To finally rest would be most wonderful.”

And the mirror smiled, and closed the door behind him.