He’d survived that first night, and every night since, eventually learning to sleep amongst the shadows. Eventually escaping the terrors that awoke him in the dark of night with his heart pounding out of his chest, brow dripping with sweat. Lately, he slept like a babe, a small mercy that he not once took for granted.

“You’re alright, Orum,” he said now, withdrawing his hand from the tree, only half-surprised when he didn’t immediately crash to the forest floor. His legs held him, for even in moments of weakness they were strong from years of hiking the ever-changing paths through the wood.

“Ever-changing,” he muttered under his breath. “Why is that a bad thing? We’d be bored if everything was always the same, wouldn’t we?” He spoke like this often, as though he had a companion other than me, myself and I, like there was a partner beside him, a partner who always agreed with him and never left his side. “They all fear the forest because they don’t understand it, but we understand it, don’t we?” Of course, no matter how many questions he asked the wind, the wind never answered.

Not that he seemed to mind, his lips continuing their chatter as he moved onward, his feet set on his mission for the day. Most days, his missions were simple: gather food and water, gather supplies, repair the walls or roof of his basic shelter, build tools or braid vines into rope…the list of tasks went on and on, never complete because it tended to recycle itself whenever he began making any significant progress. That was the way he liked it, staying busy, less time for his mind to wander and churn.

Not today, however. Yesterday he’d gathered extra food and water, had mended everything that needed to be mended, all in anticipation of carrying out this trek to a spot he’d only visited once before. That previous visit remained a point of shame for him, because self-admittedly he’d fled the scene like a child afraid of a monster residing under his bed.

It had been those eyes, those golden-glowing eyes in the dark, like twin moons sheltering from the storm. Not that there had been a storm, the only thunder the hidden creature’s warning growl.

“Anyone would’ve run, wouldn’t they?” he reasoned to himself as he continued his jaunt. He was on a different path than the last time, because the trees had moved. Something that should’ve been impossible but wasn’t. Some might call him mad, but he couldn’t deny what he witnessed with his own eyes. The growing, the moving, like the forest was more than just alive, like it was intelligent, aware of what it was and its place in the world.