Michael woke to the sound of Morning Bluebirds. They hummed, sang, and chirped away, serenading the sun as it rose from its own slumber in the east. The landscape thawed in triangles as the mountains held back the sun, and it in turn burst through between their peaks. Michael was lucky enough to find himself exactly in the middle between two peaks, and as such he caught the early sun.
He crawled from his sleeper awkwardly and stretched. He started with his fingers, then his toes, then worked his way along his four limbs from his extremities to his torso. He cracked and bent every joint, stretched every muscle and taughtened every sinew. Once his limbs were loosened, he proceeded to work through his torso. Starting from his hips to his shoulders, every vertebra was shifted, turned, and shot back into place. His shoulder blades faced their own morning baptism, after which came his neck. Finally, after even his jaw had its turn, he took a deep breath.
He inhaled the cool morning air. He pulled it through his nose, down his trachea, and down into the depths of his lungs. His intercostal muscles and diaphragm screamed from the exertion. He almost staggered as the oxygen rushed into his brain several seconds later. The jolt shoved his brain into action.
The dew was still fresh on the leaves as Michael dashed through the underbrush. His steps were light and fast.
"Ah, how good it is to be able to run like this! It's been far too long since I've last truly enjoyed the outside!" Michael shouted as he flew along.
"Bah! Damn those lecturers and their demands! They kept me glued to the desk behind my cogitor from sunrise to sunrise every day! I couldn't even rest during the weekends! If I never have to go back it would be too soon!"
Michael took in the sights and the sounds as he flew through the forest. His steps were fast and agile. He nimbly avoided the obstacles, although he couldn't help but feel awkward. His motions may seem fluid and exceptionally coordinated, even effortless to others, but Michael could sense an ever so slight disconnect between his will and his body. He was still keenly aware of the fact that this wasn't his real body. The veil on his senses had been removed, but his body still wasn't entirely his own. He could sense a foreign presence. It intercepted the messages he sent to his body, interpreted them first, and only then passed them along. Though the delay and sense of disconnect was minute, Michael couldn't help but notice it.
"I suppose even the best technology is still just technology. It can never match up to the real thing. No matter how close it gets, there will always be the smallest difference."
Michael sighed sombrely. This was a most unwelcome reminder of the fantasy of this world.
The sun was just peaking over the lowest of the mountain peaks as Michael returned to his camp. He found everything just as he had left it.
"Ugh, the intestines from yesterday's butchering is beginning to leave a distasteful odour."
He gathered up the intestines and buried it in a shallow ditch a few dozen metres from the camp. Afterwards he headed for the nearby stream to wash himself.
The day was in its teens when he returned. Refreshed, he gathered his equipment and set off to look for the traps he had set and emptied the day before. The first he came across he had set under the root of an old tree. The root lifted from the ground in an arch before it descended back under the ground, creating an underpassage used by small game to travel.
"Bah, empty. If every trap had a catch in the first day it would be too easy."
Michael moved on.
The second he came across he had set under a small, thorny bush. A small passageway had been carved from it by the repetitive travels of small game, likely rabbits or some large vermin.
"Empty again."
The third was between two trees. This trap was somewhat larger. It could capture anything up to a a large Klipspringer(1).
"Empty..."
The fourth trap was set up next to a tree. This tree had a low hanging branch, about two metres from the ground, that spanned a distance of three metres between two trees. In the middle of the span a third sapling grew. The branch ran through the split in the sapling, giving it a firm central support. The trap was hung from this branch with the noose about one and a half metres from the ground. It was perfect for catching Zebra-sized (2) animals.
This trap yielded a catch. Caught in the noose was an animal Michael had never seen before. It looked almost like a Lichtenstein's Hartebeest (3), except that it didn't have the characteristic curving horns. Instead it had the antlers of a Caribou (4). Most amazingly, the antlers had leaves growing on them. They were like small saplings growing out of the head of the deer.
Michael could do naught but hold his breath when he saw the deer. He stared at it for nearly half an hour before daring to move closer. The deer was standing dead still. It was clearly still alive, but it wasn't struggling at all. Michael couldn't decide whether it was because it had given up, or because it was saving its energy to deal with him.
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Regardless of the possible dangers, he moved closer. He didn't hide his steps. He could see the deer had already noticed him, so there was no point. Besides, he could see the marks and wounds on the deer's neck where the noose had harmed it. It had clearly struggled to free itself already and the noose had held. Even if it started struggling again, the noose would hold, at least long enough for Michael to kill it.
The never made a move, however.
Michael circled around it carefully. He maintained a distance safely outside of the reach of its legs and antlers. He moved around to the front. Only once he was directly in front of the deer did he begin to close in. As he approached he stared into the deer's eyes.
They were unlike any eyes he had seen before. The pupils were in the shape of a leaf. Each was haloed by ice-blue sclera (5). When their eyes made contact, Michael felt like he was standing in the middle of the forest in the dead of the night. All around him was pitch black, the navy of the night, and dancing on the breeze were glowing, spring-green leaves. There was a sense of tranquillity in those eyes, like the mountains could crumble, and the seas could dry, but they would not faze those eyes.
The deer didn't turn its gaze away, nor did it blink. Those two leaves simply stared into Michael's eyes. Under the deer's unwavering gaze Michael felt as though he was naked. It felt like every secret, every memory, every fear, and every passion was laid bare. He was a bride of fate unveiled to her husband, his to gaze at and scrutinise.
Despite the uncomfortable, even unnerving feeling, Michael still felt serene. The incongruous, even paradoxical feelings played themselves on his heart, yet left it unmoved. They danced on the pond of his soul, yet left no ripples on it. The surface remained a mirror. It reflected his fate stars perfectly, and bounced off it the droplets of mourning and sorrow, of regret and anguish. The bolts of hatred, fury, rage, and vengeance remained unrooted. They had no choice but to bounce between his fate stars like an ominous premonition.
Michael finally arrived in front of the deer. His gaze had never shifted, nor had the deer's. The two continued to stare into one another's eyes; two solitary existences in a sea of void, an endless universe of inconsequentiality.
Michael sighed.
"Why do you stare at me so?" Michael asked, "Why do you gaze into my soul so? Why do you face your winter with such serenity? Why does the world not concern you? Oh deer, your eyes are fathomless. Within them dances profundity. Within them twirls golden leaves. Your life is in its autumn, so why do your antlers bloom evergreen? Why do you seek my heart with such sincere compassion? Why does your gaze shake my unmoved heart? For what reason do you stand in front of me, timeless like the mountains, and ageless like the azure sky? By what age should I measure your grandeur, so close to its pyre? Why should I be drawn to your gaze like a moth to a flame? Tell me, oh evergreen deer of autumn, will you burn me like the candles lit in the mausoleum? Will you bleed me like a goat during the ides? Do you blind me to the future like Odysseus Polyphemus? Why do you tempt like Medusa; to gaze for eternity into those crystals? Should I walk in the shadow, taking the corpse of the moth, or join it in a dance of momentary brilliance? Should I ignite my passion and burn myself on the flames of fate, or should I turn from your gaze and bring about your winter? Should I ripple the mirror and distort the fates, or leave it untouched, perfect and unmoved by the storms that rage above it?"
The deer remained unchanging, unmoved by Michael's soliloquy. The two continued to stare at one another. Neither dared break their locked gaze, nor did either wish for time to resume its ceaseless march.
Finally, afteran eternity spent in a moment that did not move, in an instant that did not pass, Michael lifted his dagger. It touched the skin of the deer, and sliced across its throat. The noose jumped, and dangled loose by the side of the deer's head. It didn't move, however, and continued to stare into Michael's eyes for several eternal moments.
It turned slowly and moved away. It walked unhurried into the distance. Just before it vanished into the shadows of the underbrush, it turned its head back, and gazed into Michael's eyes one last time.
Michael's eyes sparked at that moment, and a ripple rang in the surface of the pond of his soul, disturbing its eternal tranquillity.
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"Sonja!" a small, determined voice rang out in the forest.
"Run, Direm! Run and don't stop!" a slightly older voice echoed.
Two small figures dashed in between the trees. Behind them came a lumbering mass. It tore down the trees like a farmer harvesting so many stalks of wheat. The underbrush was ripped up as it moved along, and the canopy fell as it roared past. Despite clearing out a scar in the forest, it remained submerged in shadow. The rays of sunlight bent themselves out of shape to avoid it. They scattered like fleas before a flame.
Wherever the beast passed the forest died; trees withered, rocks crumbled, and the ground became barren.
"Why is it chasing us?" the small voice asked.
"I don't know, just keep running!"
The two crossed the grounds as quickly as they could. Their steps were frightened, their breath in fear, and their eyes rapt with dread. They came over the top of a small rise, and crashed through some bushes. The two plopped down onto the ground gasping for air.
The girl named Sonja listened with utmost care. After several quiet, anxious moments she let out a long, deep sigh.
"It's no longer following us," she said.
"Why would it suddenly stop?" Direm asked.
"I have no idea, but we should thank our fate stars..." her words stopped mid-sentence.
Her ears twitched. She lifted her head and her eyes darted to a figure that stood a few metres in front of them. The figure stood unmoving, if not for the clear sound of breathing, it would be easy to mistake it for a tree stump in the right light. Near the top of the figure, where the head should be, were two glowing orbs; two eyes that shone with an intense light. They stared at the two, an unwavering inquisition.
Sonja's muscled tightened. She instinctively grabbed hold of Direm's hand and readied herself to run.
"Why do you hold yourself so tense, little girl?" a voice boomed from the figure.
Sonja felt herself shiver momentarily.
The figure stepped forward. It emerged from the shadow and the light fell on it.
The moment Sonja could see the figure clearly, she let out half a sigh of relief. In front of her stood a man, a human male of youthful age. He was likely no older than twenty seasons. His gaze was firm and inquisitive, without malice. Sonja felt herself relax without reason. It felt like a weight beyond measure had been lifted from her shoulders, and she involuntarily descended into darkness. A deep slumber overtook her.