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Havoc had been on an adventure, and oh what a ride it had been. Up until the moment he climbed the hill with the group to investigate, he had been quite the oblivious young buck living his life day by day. He enjoyed the peace of Homewood, hung out with pals, checked out cute does. His days were spent living, but not really helping or caring that there were things going on in their world much bigger than he.

The revival of the ancient creatures, the beasts they had tracked down and fought, had been a rude awakening for the carefree buck. That grove, the scene of the bloody massacre, was deeply moving and terrifying. It was etched in his brain, alongside the gnashing teeth of beasts. Fighting and pushing himself harder physically than he ever had before had made him gain a new appreciation for life. He wanted to become stronger, thrive and do better. There was no doubt in his mind he could have easily died. In that moment, instead of giving up or accepting his fate as beast chow, he had decided to fight and to LIVE.

Now that he was back, and had had a bit of rest and time to recuperate from his injuries, he knew what he had to do. It was time to visit the Grandfather Tree and ask for guidance. This was so far out of his comfort zone, he was scared in a different way than he had been on his adventure. He was not inclined to be a very spiritual noul. He vaguely knew the Tree was out in the barrens and was magnificent; that noul magic was somehow tied to it. Would he be able to find it? Would he know what to do if he got there? Would that greatest of trees reject him for being a shallow self-centered dolt? Thoughts plagued the chestnut buck as he made his way through the dusty lands. Unsure where to go, and not seeing anything that made sense as a landmark, he let his hooves guide him as his doubts swirled around his head.

As he started to feel a shift in the landscape, he became aware he was walking up a sort of incline. Blinking, he peered around suddenly noticing where he was. He had been quite absorbed in his own thoughts and had traveled long through the day and the sun was low. It reflected off a pale enormous tree like nothing he had ever seen before. Everything was still as he climbed the plateau and approached the gnarled giant.

Although not a creature to be very observant of scenery or theatrics, Havoc had to appreciate the entrance scene. The sun and lighting just right, the nearly glowing tree, the ambiance of dust fading off into the horizon. Fear welled up as he slowed, realizing this was the reality he was living not just scenery in some hero fariytale. Would this change his life? It was one of those moments you will remember forever and stuff. Don't muck it up, he told himself. He.. was he supposed to say something? Do something? Do you talk to the Grandfather Tree?

"Hi?" He squawked out from a parched throat, then coughed. It had been a dusty journey. He flushed embarrassed under his fur. "Ah... hey buddy...Er ... hello Grandfather?" Silence. Not even a rustle. He paused, wondering if the tree would answer, or maybe speak to him in some other way? Nothing. Unsure, Havoc moved closer, sidling up next to a giant root that clung to the rocks. This was dumb. He really shouldn't have bothered. The self-doubt was real, but this was no time to whimp out. He dug around for his beast-fighting inner-hero and straightened up. Taking a breath, he reached out a hoof and placed it on the pale scraggy bark of the root. He felt the leaves rustle this time, and adrenaline rushed into his veins.

An overwhelming reek assaulted Havoc, and he choked back a gag, eyes watering. What was wrong with Grandfather Tree, was it rotting?? Blinking the fume induced tears from his eyes, he looked around and was immediately flooded with confusion and a little fear. He was no longer standing at the roots of the Grandfather, but in a murky swampy expanse he had never seen before.

Horrible dead ghosts of trees jutted from the muck, hazy in a putrid stink fog that hung visibly around the mire. The mud appeared to bubble and hiss in places. Everything was shades of rot and the smell was like a physical force that tried to choke him with every breath. The buck turned and realized he was nearly knee deep in the sucking ooze. What? How? Bewildered, he turned some more, hooves making sucking sounds as he struggled to take in his surroundings. The Grandfather was gone. It was just a wasteland bog as far as the eye could see in every direction.

Havoc lurched forward, gagging and trying not to breathe too deeply as he made his way to a bit of hillock rising out of the sludge. It was a struggle but he managed to climb it, pulling his hooves free of most of the slop. There was nothing better to see from his higher vantage. Where was he? What was he even doing here? Maybe it was the fumes, but everything was a little foggy in his mind. He was determined though; his adventures had helped him learn to keep his head so far, there must be a reason he was here now.

A shine caught his eye and Havoc focused on a strange shape he could just barely see in the murky water to his left. Lowering his head, he tried to get a better look. It was... something from the Others, a metal thing. He was reminded of the gear he had seen across the river while on the hunt for the survivors of the predators. During that search, he had plunged across the river to investigate it without a second thought. Should he follow the same impulse and investigate? The water looked deceptive and murky, just getting to this patch had been quite a fight. But when he had left the gear before, they had inevitably discovered they needed it.

Havoc stared at the thing in the dark water a long moment, then sighed heavily. What if it was the key to escaping this wretched place? Or what if it was something important to someone? There was nothing for it, he was going to have to go in after it. He hoped it was something good and worth it at least.

Gulping putrid air in preparation, Havoc leaped off the hillock into the shadowy water. It was deep but not as deep as he had thought, thankfully. His hooves sunk in though and churned up the muck around him, clouding the water. Movement only churned it up more, and he could not feel anything with his hooves.

Annoyance flooded through him, and it took every ounce of his will to make himself stand still in the stagnant water that came up to his chest. His flanks twitched, flies buzzed in clouds around him as he waited...and waited. The water settled again and there, barely winking out of the filth below, was the glint of metal again. Seeing no other way, the buck heaved another gulp of air, and plunged his muzzle into the water. He dare not open his eyes, and just went on blind faith he had the right trajectory. He chomped on what he hoped was the metal thing, and quickly came back up for air.

This was single hoofedly the WORST experience of his entire youngish life. And he had fought bone crushers and nearly died! THIS WAS WORSE. Sputtering and gagging the mouthful of decaying water and swamp muck, he wadded blearily back to his mound. He spat the thing out and shook himself while also making frantic prayers to the Grandfather that he would not hurl his guts.

After several moments of very close calls with passing out or vomiting, Havoc finally got his wits restored enough to wonder what he had found in the bog. He toed at it with a hoof, revealing the strange uniform chinked edges of... a gear. Another stupid gear. Why him? Why these dumb things the Others had left everywhere? He did not understand, and it was immensely frustrating! He jabbed a hoof out, kicking the gear out into the disgusting bog, and the hillock crumbled beneath him. There was a sensation of falling but he never hit the swampy water.

After a moment of vertigo, Havoc found he was back where he had started, standing by the roots of the Grandfather in exactly the place he had been before ending up in the bog. This hero quest was very much not what he had expected at all.

wc: 831
t wc: 1489