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Ian lay asleep in a tree snoring quietly. After he had run off yet again like some craven fool, he had spent most of his time trying to avoid seeing and being seen by the other islanders. He had succeeded for the most part and had even managed to use some thins strips of vine and a thin stick as needle and thread to make himself a somewhat presentable pair of leafy shorts.

He carried long and very sharp stick having carved it into a decent spear should he encounter any predators - that spear was clutched across his chest so he didn't lose it while he slept.

He was dreaming, dreaming of a time before the island back when his brother Marcus had been killed. It played over and over again in his head and he kept taking the blame until finally - he turned in his sleep with a loud exclamation and fell out of his tree waking up and looking around bleary eyed clutching his spear like a man possessed.

He probably looked a site, covered in dirt and grime with his hair matted and tangled. His eyes were wary and he looked more like an animal than the man he had been once upon a time.

Ian blinked as he heard Emerwyn speak, slowly lowering his spear to a less hostile-seeming stance. "Wh-wh-what are you?" Those words echoed in his head not making any sense. He couldn't even recognize Emerwyn covered in blood as she was, and even had she not been covered in blood, Ian was too used to the solitude and too far gone from himself to have recognized her.

The scent of the blood filled Ian's nostrils filling him with fear and he echoed what Emerwyn had said softly "Wha-" or he tried, he couldn't get very far. He eyed her warily and shoved himself back against a tree keeping his spear ready to move and strike. He couldn't identify her as friend or foe through the blood scent, and blood usually meant a predator of sorts.

Who was he? He frowned trying to know that for himself. In his dream there had been Marcus. Was he Marcus?

No, he was the one who killed Marcus - wasn't he?

Who was blamed for that, the small boy. His name was. . .

A boy was crying as the police handed him a silver wristwatch. "The wild dogs got him. I'm sorry." The boy looked at the watch, blurry from the tears streaming down his face. He looked towards his mother for confort and saw only disapproval. Grabbing the watch the boy ran from the house hearing his mother call after him -

"Ian." he spoke his name in a voice raspy with misuse his eyes still wary, unsure if the name he spoke was truly his own, or one created by his tortured mind.

Ian nodded, the name seeming more familiar when it was not him that spoke it.

He was Ian, but who was Ian. He knew he wasn't the little boy he remembered, he was much bigger, and hairier, and had antlers. Maybe Ian was a different boy that he knew once before.

Who am I? he thought and unbidden a thought floated to the surface. I am the guardian, the Horned One, I am Cernunnos. I am here, where I belong.

"Cernunnos." he said with more confidence in his voice, the fear leaving his eyes. "I am Cernunnos."

He rose and brushed the hair back from his face with a hand, holding the spear casually at his side. "The one known as Ian died when he was just a small boy."

Ian stared into the face of the woman he had loved unable to figure out who she was. Unable to reach a conclusion he turned away only to have something inside make him turn back.

"I shouldst know thee, but I fear I cannot. Pray tell me, who art thou?" He could hear the sound of a stream nearby. "Perhaps thou would like to accompany me to the stream flowing yonder. One shall need to freshen up a bit from the grime that has us covered."

"Branwen," Ian echoed thinking that the name sounded wrong for her. "Very well. Please, let us go wash." He started off towards the stream making sure that Emerwyn was following him.

"How is it that thou hast found thyself on this plot of land? Surely thou was not banished here."

Ian found himself then wondering why he was on the island. He had no memory of being anywhere but the island except for those strange dreams he had, dreams of a boy named Ian.

Ian was only listening to Emerwyn with one ear, with the other he was being wary of any sounds that could mean danger.

"I-"

He could only see the back of a black haired kids head. The kid seemed to be about first grade age and had his hair cut short and spiky. He was sitting next to a hospital bed and in that bed lying unmoving except for the steady rise and fall of his chest was a man.

Hearing a sound from behind him the boy turned looking at someone through the square frames of his glasses. "Ian," he said, "you're late."

Ian approaches the boy and sits in the empty chair beside him. "Yeah," he sighed. "School was busy." His hair was ragged and unkempt hanging almost to his shoulders.

The other boy tsked and turned away from his older brother. "Father isn't doing too well. He gets worse every day." Tears filled his eyes, "he spoke earlier when he was awake, he thought I was you. He told me/you to follow your dreams and be happy."

"I am here because it was my dream, now it is my fate."