A wolf’s howl pierces through the forest. A child, about 12 years of age, starts barking back, as though communicating with the wolf. The wolf scurries off to get prey for the boy. The boy is sitting on a tree. Not a tree stump, or the trunk of a fallen tree, but on a living tree, bent in an odd way. The trunk bends horizontally, a few inches above the ground, before curving vertically and providing a sort of backrest for the boy.

A carriage passes by, on a small dirt road. The galloping of horses is heard. The boy sits up, as though coming to attention. He hops off the tree and gives off a short yelp. Wolves gather around him, as though melting into existence. The bent tree straightens itself, growing shorter but thicker, as the roots detach from the forest floor, like thousands of tiny legs. A small blue creature, like a snake with limbs and wings lands upon his shoulder.

A tree branch obstructs the carriage, while tiny roots appear from the ground, entangling the horses.

“Shit! What’s going on?”

“Roots? A rogue treant? What’s a treant doing this far out?”

Two men leave the carriage. The first one is dressed in light leather armor and carries a sword, while the other is carrying an odd book, and is dressed in a silk robe.

“Igun! Protect the young miss, I’ll kill the treant.” The silk robed man says, “IGNIS!”

A small spherical ball leaves his outstretched palm and flies towards the tree to the side.

Then, the fire turns ninety degrees, and enters the mouth of the small blue creature. The child walks out of the forest, and the wolves appear, surrounding the carriage.

“A blue wyvern?! Shadow wolves?! Who is that child? Don’t tell me…”

The man holding the sword, Igun, crouches down, and turns the sword sideways, ready to parry. Then, shifting the sword to his right hand, a shield materializes in the left. The wolves crouch, as though ready to pounce. The child raises his hand, and the wolves relax, retreating a few steps.

“Igun stop. We can’t defeat that child.”

The man begrudgingly puts down the sword and raises his right hand behind his head. His left hand raises the shield, protecting his ribcage. The other man puts down the book.

The child points toward the shield.

“Igun drop it.”

“But Nirv…”

“I said, drop it!”

The shield falls down.

The child smiles, clearly pleased. He then points towards the direction they were travelling, and then gives a short yelp. The message is clear. ‘leave.’

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“Igun let’s leave.”

“But young miss?”

“Take her along as well.”

Then Nirv, taking a deep breath and turning towards the carriage speaks out, loudly, but not shouting. A slightly submissive tone, but authoritative as well, like an old butler reprimanding a misbehaving child.

“Miss, you have to come out. We have trouble.”

A small girl, around eight years of age steps down from the carriage. She’s dressed in extravagant clothing, and has an arrogant air about her.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s the devil of the forest. We have to leave.”

“The devil? It’s just a child raised by wolves. Run him over.”

“We can’t beat them, especially in the forest. If the devil’s here, then half the trees in the area will be treants. Not to mention, there seem to be a couple dozen shadow wolves in the vicinity, perhaps more. There’s a wyvern as well, although it’s a child.”

“Can you beat them?”

“In the open plains, with the entirety of your guards, and in the absence of the devil, sure, but here’s his territory. We have no idea how strong he is because he never fights, and we have no clue about our enemy’s numbers. Besides that, we’re in their home ground. Igun and I might escape, but you and the rest of your guards would die for sure. We have to leave.”

“Can we?”

“The devil doesn’t kill humans. That’s what they all say. We can keep our clothing, too. If you have anything precious, put it in your pockets. Do not carry anything in your hands.”

“But…”

“DO IT!”

The two men and a young girl left the carriage. Behind them were three groups of six guards.

(I’ve been saying carriage, but it’s actually one of those really big carriages, with room for 20 or so people, and pulled by 10 or so horses. I don’t know if those exist, but wyverns don’t exist either, and a big carriage is more believable than wyverns, at least in my book.)

The guards had leather armor, but it had metal covering the vital areas. They had a variety of weapons. The first group had maces and shields, the mace’s handle tucked under the armor and the shield tied to their back, the second had spears, folded into three segments and strapped to their back.

(No, I don’t care whether that’s a real thing either.)

The third were unarmed, but certain parts of their armor could be seen bulging, as though something was hidden within.

They all left.

They were, after all, mob characters.

The wolves pounced on the horses. One of them brought forth a few cuts of the best meat. The wyvern floated down from the child’s shoulder, and began eating. One of the horses was pierced through with roots that came out from the ground, then shriveled and disappeared.

The child gave a cry, then picked up Igun’s sword and shield, and Nirv’s tome, and threw them into the carriage, then; a few trees in the surroundings grew out their legs, and picked up the carriage. The child jumped on the back of one of the wolves, fitted with a saddle that was previously stolen, and the other wolves disappeared.

I was lying, half buried in the ground, about a kilometer away. I have no idea how I got here, and I have no idea where this is. I know some things, but I don’t know what I know. My memories don’t seem to be mine, almost as though they were inserted artificially. I am a book. I can fly. I can write on myself. That’s all I know I know.

A small child, about 12 years old passed me by. He was riding on a strange beast.

Yes, a shadow wolf, I know. I don’t know how I know, but I do. Behind him were walking trees.

Yes, treants.

I floated up, freeing myself from the ground, giving myself a nice shake to dislodge all dirt.

I opened myself up, and on the page, appeared text:

I then floated towards the boy and showed him what I wrote.

He tilted his head sideways, with a puzzled look upon his face. It seems he couldn’t read. Nonetheless, he plucked me out of the air and tossed me towards the treants behind him, who put me into the carriage they were carrying.

It seems he does not know telepathy either.