Algernon had had a wild night on that honey-shrew. It was one of the most bewildering experiences of his young adult life.

First it almost made him feel sick, and the trees all around started vibrating, but not up and down, no. Left, right, centre. Just as he had it figured out, it changed up on him again.

But when he did a good enough job focusing on the motions–the slight nausea started to fade, and soon he forgot it existed in the first place.

The strangely acting trees had been nothing but a distraction however. When he turned to look down at the ground instead for the first time in what felt like forever, he was not looking at the same ground he was used to.

It had not changed colour, but the textures were suddenly wildly varied and held a myriad of deeper meanings.

He had spent all night figuring out the secrets of the forest floor, how it had been shaped by millenia but also shaped its own fate in turn, having an effect on everything living and moving upon it with its endless variety across acres and aeons.

It felt like the mystery of a lifetime, and he was constantly figuring parts out; or giving others up as he was not yet ready, and moving on to the next piece of floor.

When the strangeness finally started to fade with the coming dawn, Algernon was eventually able to manage some sleep, although he was forced to turn his back to the intensifying light to hide in his crook.

When the time came to meet with the [Druid] he awoke instinctively and reflected on all the thoughts that had crossed his mind over the course of his strange night.

They were gibberish.

Well, one or two might have some merit. He felt he understood more about how the leaves faded with the seasons and somehow nourished the trees they had fallen from eventually.

Such things had been mere afterthoughts last night though, he had been focused on deeper mysteries. Do I even want more?

It was debatable, but it did feel as if he could get much more out of the experience now that he knew what to expect and prepare for. And the [Druid] isn’t exactly asking me to risk my life, just scout a bit.

He knew his ant scouts had a much higher survival rate compared to their frontline counterparts, and they did not even have wings.

That settled it, it was easy work for great potential gains. He left his perch and started flying for the meeting.

Algernon was a kind of maned owl, non-magical. But some of his ancestors had gotten close, and he had a strong mental affinity spurring his development.

Even the most base creatures could reach for the heavens on planet Ross, and eventually grow beyond such petty things as affinities and physical forms, evolving into magic incarnate.

This was not knowledge, it was instinct.

A hunger and a drive.

But not one greater than survival, Algernon was a careful bird.

When he spotted his target the madman actually expected him to land right on his arm, as if he was a hatchling stumbling through his first flight, in need of charity. He landed and made his feelings clear.

He expected the boy to have a plan but instead the stupid [Druid] just reiterated what he spoke of yesterday. Yeah, yeah. Find some forest-folk in trouble and then return. I got it, mr. [Druid] sir.

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At the end he finally made his first good point, the sooner they were done the sooner Algernon could get his reward and return to his easy life of commanding the dopes in the ant colonies.

He eventually signalled his acknowledgement in a way even a child should understand, and then took off, eager to be done.

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Algernon had messed up, he knew that.

That damn man had lit a fire under his wings, planting the wrong ideas in his head.

He’d flown and flown, trying to cover as large an area as possible to find a situation worthy of a [Druid’s] attention, as soon as possible.

There were none.

These things did not just show up as convenience demanded, there were rules.

True, [Druids] were special and could sometimes break rules, everyone knew that.

But not until later levels did they start to truly get it, everyone knew that too.

And Algernon was far too busy a bird to get stuck dealing with teaching some fellow youngling. Even if they shared half an affinity.

Yes, sure, there was a certain community. A certain agreement, to do things a certain way, that they shared. And their realm was often challenged, invaded at times even, by different affinities, bred in other locales. But he really called us his flock, pfft, the arrogance of hominids.

So yes, Algernon had messed up.

Having flown so far with nothing to show for it, he had returned exhausted.

At least the stupid ants had mistakenly believed he would show up and still left him food–now with a full belly and barely a third of his usual sleep the night before–he had settled in and then slept soundly; and had the most vivid dreams, of a realm above the clouds where the sun turned a different colour and revealed a hidden cousin of a darker nature behind it.

It seemed his body was still processing the residuals of that edible. Oak shit, I overslept!

When he realised the position of the sun he knew he barely had time left to earn his coveted prize, and so immediately leapt into flight from his tree again.

Algernon was feeling far too embarrassed to go back to the hill and try to convey what had happened, at least without some damned results.

He flew straight up this time and decided to try and react to things he could sense in the distance, deciding to trust to his predatory eyes despite this not being anywhere near his favourite light.

It ended up taking a couple of hours for anything interesting to happen, but what he eventually spotted had him perplexed for over fifteen minutes.

It looked like a dark cloud was running across the ground, on the border of Doc Forrest, right as it met the skoog and hills on the other side.

A dread feeling was creeping over him, that of having one's dwelling invaded in the night by a stealthy serpent, who outweighed and held no respect for you and saw no need for using stealth at all.

Algernon started swooping down from his great height, accelerating harder than ever and achieving speeds no bird from Earth could have matched.

But when he arrived at Blackenberg the damn [Druid] was nowhere to be seen.

He had messed up.