Trees stretch above me like great beasts, conjoined by the crowns to form a seemingly endless roof of murky green with the sun only peeking out on rare occasions between the waving pines. And for just a second, I can’t help but wonder when was the last time I ever saw a forest before. Or was inside one. Or laid in one on my back.

This is… Not where I was when I closed my eyes. Last I remember, I was sitting in a particularly infuriating meeting, rubbing my temples.

In that sense, a forest might not be all that bad. Except I have no idea what these trees are. Of course, being a man of the city, I can hardly attest to knowing many kinds of trees by heart, but this is something else entirely.

They are tall. Big. Humongous, really.

My head is actually lying near the roots of one such tree, giving me the strong impression that it is about the size of a regular skyscraper. Which it should, by all means, not be. It’s just a tree. Trees can be big, obviously, but not this big.

Unless I’ve found myself in some big-tree forest. Or if these are magical trees. I really can’t tell.

As for the rest of the situation…

I kind of can’t turn my head. For that matter, I can’t feel my arms either.

It feels as though my body has been glued to the forest floor, merged to almost become a part of it. But I don’t want to be part of the forest floor. Without access to my arms, I decide to put some strength into my legs, which I apparently have. By pressing myself up, it almost seems as though I’m tearing away from the grip of whatever attaches me to the forest floor. Something rips and I can feel how my tawny legs, suddenly so weak and brittle, slowly drag me off of the ground.

Then, with a final tear, I fly off the ground and stumble for a few seconds, my perspective remaining low. Finding that my feet are apparently fully incompetent, I fall over again, this time face-planting the ground.

Okay. Alright. That might not have been the most gracious way of doing things, but I’m at least not stuck to the ground anymore. Just as a general question; what was that all about? Really. Did I get drugged, transported to some huge-tree’d forest, and then left to get overgrown?

That would explain my stumble.

But not my lack of breathing.

Yeah, uh, I hadn’t really thought about it before, but I’m not breathing. Something like that should really have been obvious the moment I opened my eyes, but it wasn’t. Even though the strain of getting off the ground should have left me at least a little breathless, there’s nothing.

I don’t even think I have a mouth?

That aside, I can’t just lie on the ground forever. If someone came across me sulking like this I’d have to silence them forcefully.

Again, using only my legs, I bring myself back to standing, this time placing all my effort just on standing up. It’s almost like standing on stilts, but after a few seconds of trying I’m able to keep myself stable long enough to look at the forest floor.

It’s not grass. As far as the eye can see is just a large rug of green, roiling moss, only bursting here and there to allow a round, head-like rock to poke out. These rocks are around the sizes of houses. Some of the bigger ones go all the way up to seeming more like immense boulders than mere rocks. Looking at them, I can’t help but feel tiny in comparison.

My body… There’s something strange about it.

I turn around to look at where I burst out from and find a small opening in the moss carpet. Like a piece of moss had just disconnected itself from the rest.

Surreal. The picture this paints of myself is not pretty, but if I fold my upper body and look down at myself, I can confirm it as true.

Yup. I’m moss.

It’s a very odd realization, one that grips me with the desire to strangle someone. Maybe God. Maybe a deer. Whatever’s closest, I suppose.

No, but seriously, what the Hell am I? I’m not all moss.

My legs are tiny little twigs lacking feet or anything else. That certainly explains my poor balance.

What manner of creature is this?...

Mossling(F-) Lv 1/10 Stage: Kid Health: 4/4 State: Shaken Strength: 1 Dexterity: 2 Grit: 1 Racial Skills: Absorb, Photosynthesize Normal Skills: N/A Titles: Oknytt

Ah, well, that… That certainly explains some things.

Is this a joke? Am I being pranked on a cosmic level? Is there someone in accounting I should be cursing and spitting at right about now?

No? Well, I’ll still keep my ire fed, just in case. Now, what does this all mean, anyways? What is even a mossling?

Mossling: Oknytt, rank F-. Weak spirit inhabiting a patch of moss.

Did you just call me weak, bastard?

Well, the F- rank is pretty much saying the same thing, so I shouldn’t be too surprised. But, still… That tells me next to nothing. Except that I’m a spirit of some sort. Would that mean that I died? In the middle of a meeting? I can’t imagine a worse way to die. At least it was on company time. That’ll give a few extra nickels to my pets.

But this does bring my focus to another word. It was actually listed beneath the Titles section, so it seems at least somewhat important.

Oknytt.

Don’t be too surprised, but I’ve actually done an introductory course in Swedish 101. It was for a business trip so I almost forgot it all instantly, but here it is again. Oknytt. By the looks of it, I guess it means that I am not a knytt? O in front of a word suggests the opposite or lack of a thing, but I have no idea what a knytt is. It sounds small though, which I seem to be.

Yeah. Apparently, these are not massive trees and rocks. I am just a very small little moss thing. Which is pretty fucked up if you think about it.

Stumbling, I fall over again. The blue sky remains hidden behind the canopies. Seems like this isn’t another world, at least. Hopefully.

...Now that I think about it, maybe that voice might be able to explain what Oknytt is? It certainly has been helpful so far, so-,

Oknytt: Small, Mischevious creatures.

That is almost completely useless. What, next you’ll tell me I have free will? Ridiculous.

This all is just-, what, am I supposed to increase my level? Photosynthesize power into these useless little legs?

Rank F: The lowest rank, containing animals and creatures easily killed even without the intent to do so.

Oh, you’ll just keep going? Alright. Now you’re calling me the weakest possible, too?

F-. The bottom of the bottom. So I might as well d-,

There’s a sound. A shuffle of some sort that I hadn’t noticed before. A little gust of wind puffs past me and it smells like half-digested grass and stomach acids. I can’t exactly describe it, but somehow, it feels as though I’m not alone anymore. Something has sneaked up on me, almost completely unnoticed.

Jumping to my feet in a burst of action, I spin around to face whatever’s behind me.

Deer(D-)

Stage: Adult Health: 87/87 State: Curious

It’s a deer. That’s really what it is.