Chapter 5

Sudden, jarring silence woke Cedric roughly from his pleasant dream of dancing with his yellow-haired love. Had it been hours, or days since he had gotten on the back of the icy beast? All he knew was that the lulling movement had ended, and they were at the beginning of a thick, wall-like forest. The sun had just begun to settle over the horizon, with the outermost branches of the Mother Tree casting their ominous shadows before them.

"Do you know the place that lays before us, Cedric?" The Witch's hand slowly motioning to the trees.

"Only in name, I've never entered the forest before."

Dark fog rolled out from the tree line, thick and moving like it had a life of its own. The harder one tried to look into the forest, the less one saw.

"Stories of this place are old as the Mother Tree herself. One could get lost within the first few feet of entering the tree line and wander for years. Trees are said to be able to uproot and move when you're not looking, as if they have a life of their own. Thick fog can shape itself into your worst fear, or greatest desire, anything to daze and confuse all who dare to enter the heart of the forest to harm the Mother Tree.

Without a guide, you are doomed to be hopelessly lost in the darkness of your own mind. Not to mention the legions of creatures that live within the dark wood.

At least, that's what the stories say."

"The Forest of All." He whispered.

With a soft, padded thud, the Gypsy Witch dismounted from Snow Bringer and took a few steps forward, coming within inches of the tendrils of fog that acted like they were trying to reach out and grab her ankles. She clutched a small piece of antler tied around a crowded necklace and bowed her head.

Unsure of what he should be doing, Cedric shifted his weight uncomfortably. A crow rang out, then two, then three each farther from the last deeper into the wood. A few tense moments passed before a figure formed from the depths of the forest. Tall and broad, a crown of interlocking antlers defining his shadow. A bow could be seen slung over the shoulder, a quiver of arrows at the waist.

The Hunter emerged from the wood, furred leather-bound feet making no sound in the dry leaves and fallen branches. Piercing emerald-green eyes glancing only once at the knight and Cea'em Two'um, before settling on the Gypsy Witch.

Though he stood much taller and wider than her, he took a knee and bowed his head. His cape of moss and leaves trailed behind him, small dark fur faces adorning the shoulders and kissed at his chest. His curly, brown hair framed his lightly bearded face as he placed the antler crown lightly on the golden grass to his side, a show of respect normally reserved for royalty alone.

"M'Lady," he kept his tone soft for the Witch, his voice deep and gravelly, like a man who didn't have much opportunity to speak, "what a pleasant surprise to hear your call. I have missed your gentle presence." He took her small hand in his, kissing her knuckles before he rose to his feet, donning his crown once more. "What do you ask of me, sweet sorceress?"

The Gypsy's cheeks flushed before responding, "We are in need of passage through the forest, straight through to Spring Meadows." She glaned behind her to the knight still sitting on Snow Bringer before she turned back and whispered to the Hunter, "A few loose strings of fate to bond, I think."

The Hunter sighed deeply, knowing the Witch was up to her old tricks again. One simple nod, and he turned back to face the forest. He gave a long, low whistle through his fingers, and a distant grunt responded. A shadow formed between the branches; it was tall, taller than any horse, with antlers so large and spaced, it had to bend its head to and fro to avoid low hanging tree limbs. Another deep grunt as the Mighty Stag left the tree line and walked to the Hunter's side.

The animal's fur was coarse and deep brown, almost black in some spots as he shook out the morning dew that had settled on it. An aged leather saddle lay strapped to its back and almost blended into his coat, and a sturdy vine bridle wrapped around the velvety head, and reins sat at the base of the massive shoulders. As the beast knelt, the Hunter turned and mounted the Mighty Stag, who pranced and snorted, trying to get back into the cover of the trees. The Witch in turn mounted Snow Bringer, and the knight leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "What happens now?"

"Now, we follow."