A warm south wind blew across the tops of the trees, laughing between boughs of ancient maple as it blew steadily northward. It was still early in the day yet the sun was setting far in the south. Autumn had arrived at the great StoneWood forest. Far at the top of one giant, a single maple leaf lost its grip and began drifting downward. Flecked with red and green over contrasting veins of brilliant copper, it swirled around in the light breeze, bouyed by a mischievous updraft that spun it incessantly.
For a moment it seemed that the leaf
would remain suspended in this manner forever; a tiny dancing bauble caught
by a gentle eddy on a cool autumn afternoon. Sadly though, this was
not to be the case, for the growing evidence of fall colors on the ground
below spoke to a different fate. Eventually, in a dance now being
played out countless times throughout the forest, this single leaf's slow
descent began.
A path led through the ancient forest and today, at
this very moment, a horse made its way cautiously by.
It was a large Clydesdale with a dappled coat and a long auburn mane.
Its breath made twin puffs of steam in the crisp air as it bore it’s
lightly armored rider along; luminous brown eyes focused on the path ahead.
A highly prized steed, this horse knew armed conflict and was well
trained in the complex art of warfare.
It yearned for the smell of battle and the clash of steel.
Memories of the first charge and the sight of fleeing enemies filled
it with excitement. A creature
of war, it was bred for conflict.
So it really was not surprising at all that the horse snorted and
tossed its head restlessly, for this long trek promised none of that.
A light touch of the spur quickly brought it back though and it
focused once again on an ever darkening path that wound through a
troublesome wood.
If a leaf could see, then what a sight this falling
leaf could behold! At the top of
its descent, the entire forest was visible.
This one single leaf was falling from the tip top of the very largest
tree in a stand of ancient sugar maples.
From horizon to horizon, in all directions StoneWood forest was
crimson and gold. Giant spruce
trees stood in contrast, ancient green boughs slowly swaying as the south
wind lightly tugged. Rolling
hills undulated, their contours softened by prolific life.
The leaf swirled lightly, landing for a moment on another still
attached. But the wind gently
tugged and it was aloft once more.
Far below, the path wound incessantly as the knight on
the horse rode. It was time.
The wind twitched slightly as the magic unfolded.
The leaf’s downward path was altered slightly.
What would be had now become
something different. It twirled in
the breeze, closer now towards its landing.
The sun inched downward; it would be setting soon, while far to the
east, the harvest moon peeked over the horizon.
The rider looked around, his deep blue eyes scanning
the ever darkening forest. He
was bare headed, helm lashed to the saddle behind him, graying locks falling
on strong shoulders, well accustomed to the weight of the chain armor he was
wearing. He carried his long
sword on his back, its gold and silver scabbard falling to the left so that
a two handed reach behind his right shoulder could quickly bring the huge
weapon to bear. On his left side
was a smaller one handed weapon, better for riding combat.
His shield was also lashed to the horses left side.
It carried the emblem of a red castle encircled by a golden dragon; a
coat of arms that tied him unmistakably to the royal family.
A strung hunting bow with a short quiver of arrows at the grip was in
easy reach. The knight’s keen
senses scanned the forest around him.
Perhaps he would get lucky and find game for tonight’s dinner.
Around him as dusk approached, the colors of the forest
slowly muted towards grey. The
moon would soon chase all that remained of the brilliant fall color away as
the sun set. The knight looked
up. He could see it too, an
impossibly huge orb on the eastern horizon inching up as the sun set in the
west. “Harvest moon” he thought
to himself dismally, “there will be no game tonight”.
He lightly touched spurs to his horse again and it snorted as it
picked up the pace a bit. The
gesture was useless though since the nearest town was almost a full day’s
ride still. He would have to
make camp in the forest when night fell.
So the rider looked for a clearing with cover from the trail.
His instincts sought a defensible position on higher ground where
ambush would be unlikely.
The wind changed as the sun set.
Now becoming a nighttime breeze, it was steadier and cooler and the
leaf was sent soaring. Like a
tiny kite, it tugged restlessly on an imaginary string.
Then, spinning like a top, it caught an updraft from the warmer woods
below and sailed upward where a flock of geese was circling. They honked
collectively as they sought water but the forest below stretched unbroken.
The knight, however, heard their calls.
Dismounting, he unstrapped the long sword from his back
and fastened it in place on the horse’s saddle.
He then removed the light chainmail he was wearing and replaced it
with a dark olive tunic from his knapsack.
The smaller sword was augmented by the hunting bow and a hunting
knife was sheathed at his right side.
He had become a woodsman and he led the horse by its bridle as he
made his way forward on foot. It
paid to be more cautious now, because the creatures of the night would
themselves be hunting soon. His
eyes now scanned upwards marking the geese.
He knew there were no ponds here and that the geese would need to
seek refuge on land. It would be
high ground too and well protected; a sanctuary they could find easier than
he from their aerial vantage point.
So he watched them circle among the swirling leaves from the great
trees, and then grunted with satisfaction as he saw them veer in to land.
They had decided and he would follow.
He led the horse off the path in the direction of the
descent and was soon rewarded as the trees began to thin out.
Ahead, he could see the ground rising to what appeared to be a high
meadow while the trees around him rustled softly as a puff from the
nighttime breeze whistled by.
Above him, unknown and unseen, the leaf fluttered downward again.
It flip-flopped and lighted on the bough of an oak tree.
The sun had set completely now and the rising moon was beginning to
bathe the landscape in ghostly white.
The knight stopped just short of the clearing with the
geese ahead, honking as they investigated the security of their
landing spot. Now he dropped the
reigns and the horse stood silent and motionless.
Gathering the hunting bow, the man knocked an arrow from the grip
quiver and moved ahead, stalking.
The reds of sunset were fading to purple when the dire
wolf caught the scent once again.
It suppressed a pang of excitement as it swerved onto a well-worn
game trail. Its instincts made
it silent as it padded along, savoring the increasing intensity of the hunt.
Its silver coat began to make it invisible too as the full moon rose
in the east. The wolf increased
its pace for its prey was closer now.
Silently stalking, it was a ghost. Brushing the saplings that stood
five feet over the path, it was a giant.
Burning red eyes focused intently into the gathering gloom, it was a
monster.
The great sentinel hill rose in columns of chiseled
basalt from its left. Man was
there. The wolf was glad that
the trail’s direction reflected the feelings of other animals, for it swerved away, obstructively placing giant trees between the tower at the top
and the creatures who wished to remain hidden.
The wind suddenly switched to blow gently from behind.
This was troubling for it would make the wolf less able to detect other
creatures ahead while announcing its own presence sooner.
The full moon rose as dusk deepened, painting the
forest in stark hues of black and white.
The knight grunted disdainfully at this but decided to take a chance
at finding dinner anyway. He
set off, bow in hand.
After a short while searching randomly through the
forest, his keen eyes made out the distinctive markings of a game trail.
So he paused, studying for the tracks of potential prey.
Instead, what he found on the damp ground in front of him was
something quite odd. Another
horse had passed by very recently.
This one was wild too because there were none of the obvious signs
that shodden hooves made. Their
light impressions also told him that the horse was a yearling and that it
had stopped right here. Probably
sensing his own presence, it had turned around and was now moving warily
back in the direction it had come from.
Curious, the knight turned onto the game trail himself, bow at his
side with its arrow still nocked huntsman style.
The light was still good and the wind at his face was
softly punctuated by the sound of rustling leaves.
This was also good.
Any potential prey would be unaware of his approach.
The knight knelt to study the tracks then again looked ahead.
The trail climbed steadily upward and he could see that it would soon
break into the open meadow where he had left his own horse.
At the forest’s edge, he stopped to survey the
landscape. The meadow was open
and well lit by the increasing moonlight.
Far ahead, rising up like a strange earthen beast, he could see the
great stone outpost atop sentinel rock, its winding pathway to the summit an
illuminated ribbon of silver in the autumn moonlight.
Artificial light shone from the outpost’s high ramparts signaling its
occupancy, for it was an important and strategic fortress of the StoneWood
realm. That was a relief he
thought, for it meant that Castle Gate wasn’t much further.
He would be reclining in the safety of its keep by midday.
Looking ahead, he could see that the forest gloom surrounded the path
once again maybe fifty yards distant.
The meadow itself was dominated by tall grass.
Waving in unison, individual blades
betrayed the shape of the breeze here as they lent form and solidity to its
gusts and eddies. The knight
scanned for the yearling horse but didn’t see it.
Only his own horse broke the monotony of the grassland as it grazed
on tender shoots near the forest’s edge.
The updraft had taken the spinning leaf high into the
air and now it was blown northward.
Below it, the trees still waved in the diminishing force of the
daytime southerly. This made the
updrafts and eddies more frequent as both breezes created friction along
their common front. Soon they
would equalize though and silence would fall.
It would be a beautiful, still night with the harvest moon presiding.
As it advanced, the wolf instinctively knew when it
would have to leave the trail lest its own scent betray it.
Padding into the forest, it silently began to circle.
It would approach its prey from the side, and launch its ambush from
cover. The wind was starting to
die down. The time for killing
was now close at hand. It moved
stealthily now, creeping forward, ears cocked, eyes searching.
It could hear the sound of its prey on the path.
It could sense its beating heart and its wary gait.
Yet it could smell no fear.
The dire wolf had not yet been detected.
Quickly and silently the knight made his way across the
meadow. Keeping low to remain hidden,
he nevertheless made it to the other side in a flash.
The sounds of hoofs now came from up ahead, muted by moss and
indistinct, yet clearly not the sounds of a deer or an elk.
The hunter was disappointed by this, for he had hoped that the wild
yearling might have flushed out some hidden game.
He moved silently forward down the
path. Maybe this creature could
at least fetch a price from the stable master at Castle Gate.
He crept from the path to circle around, looking for
cover as the wind died. An eerie
stillness enveloped the glade.
The full moon winked from the boughs of the trees casting crooked shadows
below. An owl hooted in the
distance. As the knight waited,
a silver shaft of light, cast though a gap in the trees by the still rising
moon, slowly spilled onto the path, and what it revealed made him gasp.
Spinning and dipping but now released by the dying
breeze, the leaf fell earthward.
Slowly and deliberately the dire wolf advanced.
This was the moment! Foot
following foot, cat-like it moved, cutting the distance to a point where it
could leap and tear at the throat of its prey.
Silent, it moved on a bed of soft pine needles.
Unseen, the leaf fell to earth, now blown sideways at the last minute
by a slight puff to land on those same pine needles.
By the light of the moon, yet shining as if by its own
inner light stood a yearling unicorn.
Head up, ears cocked, it was intense white magic in living form.
The knight could hardly believe his eyes.
Here was the stuff of legend, the tales of his elders now made real!
He held his breath for the creature’s pure grace was spellbinding.
The dire wolf gathered itself and made one final
adjustment but then its right front paw stepped where the unseen leaf had
just landed. The dry leaf
crunched loudly, sound ringing through the silent stand of pine.
The dire wolf leapt!
Startled by the sound, both unicorn and knight looked
to the other side of the trail. The huge dire wolf was hurtling almost
mid-air now as it launched its attack.
It was too late for the unicorn; it could not move fast enough to
avoid air-born death. But the
knight could. With blinding,
practiced speed, he brought the bow up with its still nocked arrow and shot
instinctively.
Time itself seemed to slow, for as I've said before, StoneWood forest lives
outside of time as you or I know it.
Besides, an ancient and powerful spell was now playing the last note
of its final chord. Arrow
whistled past unicorn as it started and reared.
Perspective changed as silver moonlight flashed suddenly white.
The knight watched as his arrow struck, and what seemed to be a dire
wolf crashed to earth. Then,
like a lamp suddenly shuttered, the rising moonlight was extinguished by the
forest canopy as the orb of the moon itself rose above the gap in the trees.
The unicorn leapt away, melting into the darkness for it too was a
magical creature.
Slowly, the knight rose from his crouch and walked over
to the man lying on the ground, heart pierced by his own arrow.
Puzzled, he glanced over to the forest beyond; a sea of silent pine
needles, broken only by the crushed silhouette of a single maple leaf.
There was a muted hissing sound as the dead form of the
man became vague, then shapeless.
Swirling eddies of wind blew the mist away.
Nothing remained except his arrow.
The knight reached down to pick it up, shaking his head in disbelief,
but then his practiced eye caught the fresh tracks of a mule deer.
Nobody would believe his story anyway, so he put it out of his mind.
Far off, what was perhaps an owl hooted again.
The great trees of StoneWood forest stood motionless.
Balance between great and ancient forces had been maintained.
As the powerful spell dissipated, the
crisp autumn night with its harvest moon presiding became merely a calm
nighttime ending to an otherwise nondescript day.
Yet the knight knew nothing of this; his rumbling belly told him only
that he remained hungry after a long days trek.
A new and gentle breeze softly sprang up, placing him
once again downwind from his prey.
“What great fortune!” he thought to himself, “Perhaps there will be
meat for dinner after all.”