12d • Village Square
A Traveler On The Outskirts
We watch.
We observe the small brown ones.
They eat the green swaying things while we watch.
We see the quick ones with flickering tails.
They crack open the children of the tall green things, consuming what lies within.
We see the tall ones moving with grace.
They nibble at everything green.
So we conclude:
The green things, though alive, are sustenance.
They are the source upon which these creatures thrive.
And the green things do not seem to mind.
They do not cry out.
They do not resist.
They are not sentient.
They are simply… here.
An odd place indeed.
Very well.
We have tarried long enough.
Mother will want to know more.
We rise from our resting place.
We move on.
We edge closer to the mass of beings we saw from on high,
those who move among the dead things.
The way is long, but we do not tire.
We are built well for this odd place.
Well, now that we have tamed our fire.
We pause.
We sense… an oddity?
Life?
No.
Not life.
Something… different.
It is large.
It does not move.
It lies far away, apart from the beings and their dead things.
We do not wish to go that way yet.
Mother would want us to learn more of the beings here.
But She would want to know the oddity too.
Stillness…
We sense them.
There.
Three beings, moving through the forest toward the dead things.
They travel together.
We will follow.
We reach the place of dead things and feel the three enter.
There are many, many more beings here.
Noises — some harsh, some pretty.
We nestle beside the tall green things, hidden from sight.
We observe.
We listen.
We are Stormfire.
We are ready.
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A Traveler On The Outskirts
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