Welcome to Gaia! ::

Arkady was restless.

Truthfully, Arkady had been restless all day, for a reason he could not quite pinpoint—and that lack of precision bothered him terribly. He was not, at heart, a lover of chaos: he preferred his world to remain clearly defined, black or white, light or dark; the idea that some mystical force he could not perceive with any of his own senses, gravely offended his scientific mind.

He stood up, unfolding his graceful, slender legs with care, beginning to pace a reversed circuit of the path his hooves had formed many such revolutions before. He walked with his head low, the tip of his horn tracing curliques in the air just above the crumbly soil, like an over-ambitious glowbug.

“That makes sixty,” remarked a laconic voice from the few leggy wildflowers Arkady had persuaded to take root near the scrape he (rather dubiously) called home. Arkady glanced down at the speaker, an antlered rabbit presently lying on her back, hind legs furiously pumping in asymmetric cycling motions that the long-gone human beings would have found instantly recognizable, but only struck Arkady as pointless and faintly idiotic.

“What?” asked Arkady absently. He flicked his tail, then turned, beginning to pace counter to the direction he had been.

The little Jack Hop bounded nimbly to her feet, then fell forward, beginning to do push-ups, alternating between her right and her left paws. “Oh, you know. Sixty times you’ve been around and around the glade. Killing all the clover, too, I might point out.”

“I’m not!” Arkady cried, coming to a horrified stop. “... am I?” He peered doubtfully down at his own cloven hooves, lowering it carefully once more to press into the earth. Although he enjoyed drawing deep lungfuls of cool, dew-laden dawn air sweeping down the hill, perfumed with vegetation once more beginning to take hold, plants had never particularly been his strong suit.

Feuille giggled, plopping down onto her fluffy bottom and putting her forepaws to her mouth, as though to physically restrain the laughter from muscling its way out of her throat. “Aw, Arkady, I’m only teasing you! You gotta lighten up, kid.”

Arkady grumbled. It was largely unintelligible, even to Feuille’s not-inconsiderable ears, although she thought she caught a handful of words—’not a kid’ foremost among them. But then her charge stood straight, forelegs locked and gaze distant, almost dreamy; Feuille dropped her humor at once and leapt to his side, reaching up to paw at the yearling buck’s chest. “H-hey, Arkady, what’s the matter with—”

“That’s it,” Arkady murmured, turning his head so slowly that it scared Feuille—as though he were being drawn by some secondary force beyond her knowing. “That’s it, Feuille!” He hopped away from her sideways, kicking up his hind hooves in a rare display of joy; then he raced away, deaf to his Jack Hop companion’s cries to come back, you daft noul! She lowered her horns, put her paws to the earth, and ran after as swiftly as she could.


That had been some time before—to Arkady, it passed in a blur of leaves and vines and the puddles he splashed through, insensate to all but the singing in his heart. Now he approached the beautiful white oak, head tipped back and mouth open in awe. It was … so much larger than he’d anticipated—he would be frightened, if he weren’t so damn excited.