The Everwoods

Every morning is the same, the forest is ever stagnant. First is the shriek of the Crenshaw owl, heralding an unseen sun from atop the thick canopy of the trees.

When I came to this forest it was in search of gold; an ancient tomb housing an elven lord was plundered in under a day. But as I stretch the sore aching night from my back I am left bare and unencumbered, to survive I must travel light. My armour, my weapons, and yes... my gold were all discarded or destroyed in my time spent here. I’ve lost track of how long, it matters not to the forest ever steeped in the twilight hour.

I shoulder my backpack, all supplies I’d not weep to lose if the time called for it; rope, kindling, a water gourd, a cloak and a club; all disposable save for a single arrowhead; ironstone, etched with the ancient runes of the Gamorand Dwarves. A gift from a dwarf lass I had hitched with many years ago. Not an archer by trade I’d never thought to use it, and had never noticed its soft enchantment before; Its edge never dulls or chips, perfect for the monotonous busy work of survival within the forest.

I stretched out my aching muscles, protesting fiercely like the strings of an overturned lute. My camp had to move each night, lest, That thing, find me.

As I walked I worked, whittling short spears from fallen branches; occasionally the large squirrel or bird would chance into view and I would launch my makeshift missile through the trees for the meagre nutrients they might provide.

My footfalls were quiet but ungraceful, each snapped twig sent an identical shock up my spine. That thing would only come at night, but the day held its own challenges.

As if summoned, the beasts of avarice came; trudging through the forests on limbs reminiscent of elephant trunks; which would vary between 10 and 16. Its eyes were on stalks like an insect but its chest and face were that of a man. They moved with a surprising speed, but they were easy to deal with.

All I had to do was trade.

They'd accept nearly anything, Stones, leaves, but they would keep nipping at my heels until they felt they had had enough. Whatever of mine was scarce was what they craved. Gold seemed especially valuable to them, although I had run out of it long ago. This time I traded them the choicest cuts of some squirrels I had managed to spear, leaving myself only the bones and guts so I might go fishing sometime later in the day. This seemed to satiate the three odd beasts who had come running to my location, greedily crunching down on what would have been my dinner.

My stomach growled throughout the rest of the day, and I crossed no stream or lake. By the end of the day, my meal consisted only of ground squirrel guts and berries I had roasted over a small fire. The bone marrow I smoked and reserved for tomorrow.

To end the day I let the embers of my fire burn down and mounted up a tree. With my rope, I secured myself to a thick branch and prepared myself for another night's sleep. Through the canopy the moons shone bright, interweaving their orbital dance. Eventually, they disappeared and I prepared myself for that thing once again.

A dark miasma began dripping from the shadows between the trees, pooling and stretching across the forest floor. I decided now would be the best time to eat the squirrel marrow.

Soon figures began to sprout from the miasma, humanoids of all shapes and sizes, featureless, like clay statuettes. They all moved in unison to some point far in the forest, which I knew to be my encampment from last night. It wasn’t much longer after that until an eruption came from deep in the forest; creating a cesspool of tar-like filth where I had slept, a place where no grass would grow and no animals would dare tread.

However, I could not dwell on it, I needed my strength for the next day; as was the way of the Everwoods.