Stor and the others in the party felt like they were dancing on the edge of a knife. Around the forest was silent like a grave, empty and devoid of anything other than the plants, trees, and fungus. They were silent as much as they could, desperate for any bit of sound. They were afraid to be alone and afraid to not be alone in these ancient and strange forests.

They took steps, carefully, cautiously, to try and discover what was going on. The elders had acted strange and reclusive, discussing something amongst themselves and sending messages far away from the villages. Stor and the other hunters wanted to wait but the village was starting to starve.

These forests were dangerous, far more than the groves found deeper within the kingdom. Raw magic was everywhere and while ice or fire was rarely summoned, getting lost or getting a strange illness wasn’t rare. Knowing where to hunt and what to look for was the gift their fathers and ancestors passed on to them, allowing them to return home safe with food.

They were breaking many of these rules now. The signs that were supposed to be there weren’t, the areas they knew to avoid were scoured, and the raw magic that was supposed to be here was gone. Nothing like this had happened before. Wherever they went, there were no animals; even the magic herbs and mushrooms seemed to rot and age collectively.

Stor turned to his friend and asked, unable to hide his distress, “We need to go back and flee this place.”

“This is our home. My father was buried here, as was his father and his father. The same for my mother and their mothers. Are we supposed to abandon this place because something strange happened? That wasn’t what our ancestors did, they stayed and learned the behaviors of the spirits of this land.”

“This isn’t the land they knew. Look around, do you see any deer, rabbits, or even small rats? These animals and their ancestors had lived here much longer than ours and they had the blessings and favor of these forests. Yet they fled. If those creatures were afraid, why wouldn’t we?”

His friend seemed to grind his teeth as the raw stubbornness woven into their blood cried for a retort but there wasn’t one. What Stor said was right, something big had happened. Something much bigger than any of their ancestors had faced. There were weird events that occasionally happened, like silver fog that devoured people and the memories of them, or when the sky within the forests turned blood red. These events didn’t last long, rarely more than a day or two, and the animals only hid during them, they never fled.

“Where else is there for us to go? Our hunting does nothing within the cities. How could we get enough coins to buy food? Our accents will make living anywhere other than here difficult, if not impossible. Where can we go? There was a reason why our ancestors learned the ways to live here. There is nowhere else for us. We must stay.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Stor didn’t have a reply to that either - it was also true. There weren’t any right answers, the competing voices whether to stay or to leave were getting louder and more hysteric. They needed to either find food fast or uncover that there was no food left. Whether they found food or not would decide the village’s future for them.

“Stor, we found tracks! They point in the same direction! Come look!” shouted one of the hunters. Stor seized up for a moment as the habits carved into his bones acted up. The dangers of the forest were attracted to loud sounds. Then he remembered that they were trying to find animals to hunt and forced himself to relax.

“Lead me,” he said, his mouth and throat becoming dryer for some reason. The hunters led him through the forest and what he saw confused him. He knew how hard it was to spot tracks from training his sons but for anyone it was hard for him to not see them. For him, there was so much chaos that his experience was useless.

There was a cacophony of tracks and trails as prints from paws and hooves crossed and danced together like a horrible painting. He knelt down to touch the strange crossing of tracks just to see if it was real. It was. Somehow, animals of all types and sizes banded together and walked as a group to somewhere.

How did this happen? This forest was weird but this was far more than just strange, it should be impossible. Magic? Divine intervention? Omen of calamity? The thoughts and possibilities flooded his mind as he drowned in the ever-growing dread. Animals wouldn’t gather like this, especially with the prints of predators mixed in.

With his mind shaken, he started to see other strange, individual trails fleeing the opposite direction of this massive movement. Some animals collected together and others fled? He didn’t understand anything of what was going on but he could feel the answer to these strange events was at the end of the massive, combined trail.

The others showed similar shock to him, even the few kids brave enough to go with him could read the oddness. No one wanted to speak as they were so close to the dangerous truth. Without words they gathered and started preparing.

Forcing through the new rasp in his throat, Stor whispered, “Those of you who wish to return, please do. This isn’t about bravery, there is a chance that none of the people who follow the path of the group of animals will return alive. This isn’t the time for men to die.”

The younger ones were forced to return no matter how they protested. A few of the older ones decided to return as well to pass on this village’s traditions and knowledge, no matter what tomorrow will bring. There were now only five people left to investigate, including Stor.

They carefully followed the path and noticed that the forest seemed to be getting sicker. No, maybe the luster of magic was disappearing. Damage was everywhere from the massive amount of creatures that passed through. Stor felt his heart skip a beat as he reached the destination of the massive group of animals.

On a cliffside of a small hill, there was a cave.