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5. You awaken in a place devoid of color, flat and featureless, the earth made of pebbled stones. A track is beaten through them that suggests the passage of many, many hooves, although it is utterly silent and there are no signs of life to be seen. You hear cold, mournful wind, but you do not feel it: the air is still and cool. A strange, smooth-sided tower rises in the distance and glows from within with a light like the moon. If you approach it, you find it surrounded with strange symbols, but touching it hurts--unless you are a Legendary, in which case it triggers floods of ancestral memory, not just from your own race (as expected), but from all of them. You remember snippets of lives lived by dozens of Kin of all types.
His hooves lifted from the ground as he effortlessly sprang into the air, then landing slowly and softly on the other side of the log as if he had wings. Trip was pleased with himself. He looked at the swamp around him, but he felt cold. And he was uncomfortable….
Moving to ease the cold ache in his limbs, Trip woke up from his dream. It was so real, he thought sadly. If only he could be as agile as he was in his dreams. Ah well, back to the real world. Time to look for … Trip’s sleepy eyes focused on his surroundings. Or lack of. He was no longer in his hollowed out tree trunk. He was .. nowhere.
Unfolding his legs, he carefully stood up. “No, no, this isn’t right,” he said, turning to look in all directions. All he could see was a colorless, flat landscape in all directions. His beloved swamp was nowhere to be seen. The only unusual feature in this spartan landscape was a tower in the distance.
Trip wasn’t an actively social creature in his home swamp, but knowing there were others around was comforting. He didn’t like this ‘being the last creature alive’ feeling. “Hello!” he yelled. “Hello!” Not even an echo responded to his calls. The only thing to be heard was a howling sound, much like a mournful wind blowing across the land. But no wind stirred the still, cool air around Trip.
There was nothing to be found here. No reason to stay in this spot, thought Trip. He looked towards the tower. At least it was something. As he started walking towards the tower, he noticed a difference in the tiny pebbled stones that covered the ground. A trail, perhaps beaten down by others like him that had passed this way before. Perhaps he wasn’t alone after all. Maybe they were waiting at the tower. Hope lodged in his chest as he trekked towards the tower looming in the distance.
After what seemed like forever to Trip, he finally arrived at the tower. Even before he’d gotten to within steps of it, the buck could see that no one had arrived before him. He was greatly disappointed. Trying to cheer himself up, Trip suggested to himself that maybe he was the first and the others would come later. He stood looking at the strange structure trying to decipher the symbols surrounding it. The moon-like glow was somehow comforting to him. Stepping up to sniff it, he found no discerning scent. Wondering if it was solid or just in his imagination, Trip nudged the tower with nose and promptly fell back on his rump. Rubbing his hurt nose on his leg, Trip muttered, “Not nice.” The red buck got up, walked a few yards away from the tower and sat down with his back to it.
“I don’t like it here,” he yelled to the open expanse. He sighed deeply. “And it doesn’t like me either,” he added with a toss of his head towards the structure behind him. Still sitting on his rump, Trip glanced back at the tower with tears flowing down his cheeks. Not wanting to say the words aloud, but needing to know, he asked, “Am I dead?”
