Adventures of Oahron (part 3)

Time feels as if it were silenced as the dazed man stretches, placing one foot after the other down the hill. Into the thick woods, the tall grass brushes across his legs like an old sly cat. A click and flick of a small light sparkles where the Zenroe travels as if a cigar of some sort had freshly been lit in the damp forest air --- most odd a thing it would be if aware of the lack of existence of such ailments on Zein...

He scurries a little ways northbound, and then downward past a slope. Once in the southeast portion of the woods, he moves far-east, but far from any trail that directs him towards Futora --- being well-concealed in the lingering shadowy woods.

Shrilling echoes race from the treetops of the nocturnal creatures lurking across the branches of this remote region. Their glowing eyes make Jahru stumble, yet even if terrifying, do not show themselves to be of harm as they stare past their glide. Nighttime throughout this place has its own unique beauty which cannot be found in the span of the daylight sun.

Snaps, creaks, and rustlings jolt the stern fellow as he continues through the grass. It seems as if he is searching for the thinnest reign of salvation somewhere out here in these gloomy lofty woods, yet does not realize... it is not here. The normally green trees stand tall, lush, yet gray in the nighttime shadows. The moon brushes palely across Jahru’s face and onto the tallest twisted trees. He is shaded under the many branches with the tiny big-eyed bugs observing his movements with their peering focus and grinding hands over the next hour of stumbling into the deeper, darker places of nowhere surrounding.

The broad-shouldered Zenroe slaps through thick branches and can feel sticky plants gaining hold of his leggings. Whatever these clingy things are, they slow him just a tad, but not enough to make him stand still past the determination to push through the creaky woods of the darkened wilderness. A lot of time fades into memory seeing the same things over and over through the night…

Jahru enters his way into a lonely clearing. Sweat rolls down his face, subconsciously knowing that he should not be so far away from his promised responsibility. On the other hand, if he had not come here, he may have just cracked into insanity. When feeling like this, he has little choice but to get away from all other Zenroe to insure their, and his, safety during these stressful times, especially when your mind tells you to do all sorts of bad things, both to yourself and to others.

Through the dull appearance of a forest-maze in every direction, it seems that these trees spring in every foot of these woods except for one. A lone stump sits in the middle of a clearing drawing attraction to the wanderer’s baggy eyes. Dissimilar species of fungi glow around the edges of the clearing, placing a pale shine across the rims of his cheeks.

The look of tarnished memories eludes his structured stance as he wobbles down in front of the site of a strange memorial. With his leggings obtaining green smudgings, Jahru configures a strange movement of his hand similar to a straightward “x” and then places his chafed elbows into the grass with hands tightly grasping his dirty face. The Zenroe peers through his fingers toward the dark clouds, which move across the moon, and closes his eyes beneath his sweaty palms, tightening the grip upon his face as he squeezes down his grip. As a flash of a dark-dream slithers into his mind, he can feel tangible darkness scurrying beneath his skin like insects as he begins to pull.

As he softens grip, he avoids allowing the orange-pools of his eyes to overflow, even with no-one but the insects seeing. The quiet Zenroe sits soundly in the lonely place for almost an hour thinking on heavy memories of his youth as he sways from side to side like the grass. He sets his focus especially on the times that have drifted which offer their appearance harsh and unkindly to the Zenroe now. He can feel unpleasantness in his knees as he coughs while running his claws across his throat. He remembers all of his unkindness through the recent years from both others, and from himself.

“Why… has all this had to happen to my life?” he whispers as the wind blows past his dry lips.

As the breeze gusts harder, Jahru forces himself upon his feet while taking a hard gasp and places his hand mid-torso. His eyes, slightly red, consider that it is time to begin another journey, but instead, he again walks deeper into the woods. He follows a long twisted trail of glowing fungi (clumped in many directions) around other strong vegetation. Through all this time he goes on without a single new word. He marches each foot sparingly after the last, trying to maintain a balance like a drunken human in a police-walk who fears his suspicions being deemed truthful within an staged investigation.

The trail lingers within the whispery forest, lighting the way strangely with the rarest of glowing shrooms. The Alumni-Shrooms are beautiful white flowers during the day, each with its own distinct glow, and a tan brown fungus at night, also with a strong florescent glow, however, only visible when a living force steps by. Sometimes even wandering souls cause these lights to shine within the darkness when nothing else is sound around near them.

Deep gulps and creaks graze the nighttime air as a pale light shines from ground-level onto the surface of his rugged chin; his head strays in all directions. The trees in this spot are too thick for the moon to shine guidance on his way any longer. Now he solely relies on these unusual little plants of Zein. These shrooms aren't glowing very much, nor do they particularly like Jahru by any means, as they rattle through the nighttime air like shaky little bells...

As his toes near closer to their mushroom-tops, they swoosh from side to side, dropping their glowing spores at his feet. Small creatures in the distance spark some of these plants on brighter, making them flicker like light bulbs in the night, making the stern man to jolt to his toes at every bright flash. His heart is shaky, though he is usually brave in these woods, or at least he used to be some distant time ago. The Zenroe has gone from being a beast, to being merely a man in all the time of his mind’s struggling. Jahru was once a mere catfolk-kid, but time has painted him into a brute who has lost his beginning, his heart, and his perceivable future and end.

Blanketed with anxiety due to other flaws, along with responsibility lingering within his head in this creeping pace of night, he cannot keep the sanity of his mind at a standstill. If he had not been watching the boy perhaps, he considers, he would not be so scared here alone in this darkness of deep nowhere and nothingness --- nowhere upon any map inscription, nowhere upon any memory of history except upon that of the tragically lost.

If so numerous of things were not pressing against his brain, which cause him to trip, he also then might be somewhat sane within his own vessel. That is perhaps in truth, but tonight, right now, how things are, nothing can please his uneasy and disturbed trembling hands of a beast man. The brute does not know what he has to hold onto for himself, much less, the reason why he even keeps on walking when he knows what is waiting for him at the other side...

***

Yawning aloud, the young boy awakens to the now red moonlight as he stretches to a sitting stance. He turns his head to the right, then to the left, then between his legs, then behind himself. He peers in all directions then pushes against the grass to hop onto his feet.

“Uncle… Jahru...?” Oahron says in a grumble, shifting his eyes, but receives no answer.

“This is sure strange now,” he mumbles, peeking his head up towards the trees. “He was here just before I laid my head down for sleepy time. Hmm… Uncle… Come on out now; you silly-head uncle!”

The light paints down from the abundant sky onto his orange eyes making him focus toward the firmament with a wide gaze. He almost forgets about his uncle for this single moment as he is stunned by the glare. He is devoured by the massive circle in the sky. Little Oahron calmly steps toward the moon’s face before shaking away from its absorbent grasp.

“Uncle… Uncle… Uncle Jahru!” he shrieks in the wind as he shakes his head. “Where are you, Uncle!?” Plopping onto his hands and feet, he circles the hill pacing closely towards the woods, butt high upward in the air. The trees stand tall before him like giants with their arms waving him in as he pulls back closer to the hill.

“My brave Uncle Jahru!” he shouts again. Still, there is no response except for the chirping bugs clapping back at him... He feels abandoned in the darkness, in the woods of all places... The little guy doesn't even know how to get to Futora all alone, all by himself, just a little catfolk-kid in a shaded forest of illusion.

Head arched back, sniffing hard, fingernails impaling the grass, the animal-boy closely digs his nose into each plate of grass with his creature-like senses on guard. He begins to retrace his uncle’s steps into the dark forest --- moving past the creaking sounds of the eerie night before him.

“Uncle… Did you... um really go in here? It is so... dark. Grrr, Uncle!” he whines.

Breathing deep and remembering his bravery, as a young cub, he was used to adventuring in the night. His parents used to take him everywhere! …as he remembers it. He walks past the first cluster of roughage to sniff low and then up high as flying creatures reflect traveling across the vision of his eyes.

“Oh well then… To the righty side!” he determines, crawling towards the bark of other trees farther on his left. He places his nose firmly against some weak imprints of which he has discovered printed within the dirt.

These must be... Uncle’s footsteps? Hmm...

He begins to crawl lower with his cheek against the ground and one eye open. Other footprints scatter within the same area around these normal ones, but they are small and of no normal two-legged beast. Some of them quite reptilian in appearance…

What are these toed animals though? I have never seen creatures with webbed toes before; that is so silly… The path before him seems strangely too familiar, and at the same time new, if that makes any sense at all for a young boy. The trees were planted close, yet with more than enough space to walk, and the winds whistle their melody through them as the bright eyes of an unseen man peers cleverly around their curves.

“What is that strange smell?” he whispers as he glances, but the scent drifts quickly into the nighttime air. The night-crawlers move about in all pleasantness as they tap their hairy feet up and down the plant-life. Branches hang down as if waving as he moves deeper into the brush. He tries not to smile, but the long strands of grass are almost like fingers tickling against his torso as he crawls through the forest-grounds.

Thank goodness Uncle has a real strong smell! A smell that can be carried through the far winds, even past the other strange smells that do not smell like a Zenroe at all --- a new scent has mixed in though, now drifting away, however intelligent, does not have any fur nor tail. Oahron is very used to his family’s smell after all, so in theory, finding the Zenroe shouldn’t be a bit of a problem for this young animal of a lad. Yet it smells so weird out here tonight.

Jahru, let us just say it isn't hard to distinguish someone that has lived in a location surrounded by the means of smelly animals and big fur-covered beasts. With Jahru’s fragrance you would think he would have better interactions with the big brutes around his home, but to each his own I guess…

Oahron creeps in close to the same large set of bushes that his uncle had encountered a bit earlier in the night thanks to his excellent tracking skills. A heavy rustling perks his ears as he nears closer to the leaves. For the first time since his entering the woods, the Zenroe child begins to tremble as the moving trees call out to the boy menacingly, with a sounding screech from deep within.

Crack! Crunch! Crack!

The branches look like prickly arms, but they don’t seem to be waving like the others --- if they weren't scary enough already. Shining eyes from the darkness stare bravely into his own, and the furry smell from them is unusual as well. He puffs his chest and considers that bravery truly has got to exist in more than just a little kid’s dreams!

I must keep going now, he ingrains into his mind as he picks up a stick and his heart sounds aloud in the darkness. I cannot be scared… I am a brave boy, like my brave little wolf in my arms! Oahron again promises himself over and over again, a medal of courage behind his shaking lips.

This dark row of shrubbery, with who knows what lingering in them, is dancing right in front of him like a scarecrow on the posts of the human world --- a dark and eerie dance they recite beneath the shadows with only the light of eyes reflecting against the child's face. The blackness mixes with many sounds of pain, creeping right next to the child in terror as if the unknown creature smiles at the boy who is watching it dance.

*Gulp*

“Urrr... Please let there be a way back to the big tree village,” he whispers, searching high and low for an exitway with one foot stepping back at a time. With gloominess all behind him, he knows he has to travel straight on forward past these dancing scrubs to get anywhere at all... to find his brave hero of an uncle. Any creature of imagination could be sheathed within these plants, inside these woods, just a step away from hunting him down dead. The kid just wants to find Jahru so he can get back to his daddy, and rest in the arms of the brave Zenroe.

“No!” Oahron wails at it in a scream as he turns his head and clenches his teeth. “This can't be alright. The animals here are friendly!” He gulps as his face whitens. “It smells like an animal...” he whimpers nasally. “It must just be an animal! Do you hear me, you darn bully!?” Clenching his hands, he puts one foot in front of the other, just inches beside the ravenous bushes as he also struts his chest forward and holds up the stick to the moonlight.

“I cannot lose my uncle’s smell, you smelly, smelly old bush-thing! I will not get lost out here!” The branches begin to crack.

“WAHHH!” Oahron yelps as a loud gruff snorting pierces through the sounds of the crackling bush. “It is just a snort; it is just a snort; the bush is snorting at me! I am… safe! I am really okay… Uncle says I would be okay” he yells a cry as he sniffs up the snot in his nose. The Zenroe-kid cautiously side-steps his way around the large, and nearly dancing, shrub.

I am a brave kid. I am a brave kid. I know it can’t hurt me. Whatever you are, just please be friendly. “No… there can’t be anything in here. I must be pretending.” Yep. My mind is playing tricks on me. I am a brave hero Zenroe warrior after all, and the wolf will come to help me if I need him like he always does in my dreams. I just wish I had my sword with me… What ever happened to my super sharp shiny battle-sword? All I have is a Zenroe flipping stick, and a stick I will fight with!

Gripping his fingers one-by-one around the middle of the leafy plant, he slowly starts to pull apart the shrub, reaching back his other arm with the trusty sword-stick. He feels the slimy wetness upon his knuckles as if he has just touched a canine’s wet nose. Sweat trickles down his forehead as he swallows up his clumpy spit. He now grossly feels something that resembles a tongue crawling from top to the bottom of his palm making him jolt back in a scurry, barely able to keep footing in the grass. Gasping air within his lungs, he finds himself plopped down upon the dirt.

“What is it!? What is this slimy thing!?” he cries aloud, closing his eyes to reveal a shine of light upon his teeth. His heart jumps as his head pounds and something nears him closer as he can feel the winds push him. He tries to keep his heart inside his torso as it beats against his rib bones. The thing is now quiet for but a moment in time as the eyes slip back into the bush. Still though, there continues a crackling noise deep within the shrubbery all around him as if walking in a hunting circle. But where is the thing!? What is it!? Oahron moves his head slowly as he tiptoes back onto his feet.

Is it behind me? Is it around me, or is it way up high above me? I have to get out from here!

“Uncle!” he shrieks. “Uncle! Where are you!? I don't know which way I should go because there are so many types of noises all all around me in the dark, and your stinky smell is hard for me to find! Fine Uncle," he screams at the bush. "I'll just do it!” He kneels down as his fingers again carefully grip around a branch that is darting back and forth by his nose.

Swoosh! And Crack!

Leaping from the branches of the great brush, a broad-sized eerie purple and black spotted boar-thing smacks Oahron against the dirt! His elbows burn against the ground as he tries to stop himself from skidding with eyes open wide. He screams out with an echo as the Boarad squeals loudly, using a continuous roar as smoke comes from its long and sloppy snout.

Oahron’s eyes shrink as he scrambles backwards, still nervous of the serpents that could be slithering across the ground, such creatures that were present in his darkest and coldest dreams. His arm scurries around for his stick, but he cannot find it! This terrible beast, whatever it is, definitely isn’t clean with its mud-stained hooves trampling across the nighttime walkway! The fearsome thing locks its gaze upon the child as it holds its ground against him, and the bushes around them continue to move as bright eyes begin to shine.

The sound of the child's scream still echoes within the far-wind as he holds up a little branch across his face, trying to defend his shaky body against a hungry and fat beast…