Dark.

Very dark.

I desire to open my eyes.

I desire to see the world around me.

I desire... freedom.

True freedom.

Not to be tethered to someone, not to submit to the whims of a deity, not to be toyed around with like a puppet with strings attached. Free, truly and undeniably, free.

My eyes open, and the only thing greeting me is a large swamp, I stand on my two legs. I’m tall, at least two meters, my skin, or at least what I assume is my skin. Has the appearance of bark, I have no clear defined face, it is simply a smooth wooden mask, despite having no eyes I have no problem seeing.

I walk, for a few minutes at first, then tens of minutes, and finally an hour. While I walked I observed creatures bustling about, participating in the natural ecosystem of the swamp, content with their unremarkable lives. Some feed off plants, some feed on the ones that feed off plants, it all has a unique balance and every creature, no matter how small, from the large crocodile that waits in ambush for a stray animal like a deer to walk past. To the minuscule ant collecting food for its queen.

I wonder, what am I?

Clearly I’m not ordinary, the creatures of the swamp seem to show no reaction to my presence. And unlike the animals of the swamp, I don’t seem to have a clear and defined goal, my place in the ecosystem isn’t set in stone like the rest of the animals.

Why?

I don’t have an answer, perhaps it’s up to me to decide my place in the ecosystem? Maybe I’ll never have the answers to questions like who created me or my purpose in life, maybe it’s up to me to fill in the blanks. Maybe, just maybe.

“Do you think it’s around here?”

My thoughts were cut off by voices, I understand the words they were saying instinctively, but not how I understood. Chattering ensued and I picked up on them talking about a flower of some kind. Eventually the voices start to get closer to me, I did not attempt to hide as I did not feel the need to, the voices grow louder by the second. Inevitably the source of the voices stumble upon me, standing upright in a small clearing in the swamp staring at the frozen creatures, no, humans.

I now knew that’s what they are, there’s four of them, three male one female. The female looks like a huntress, dressed in green camouflage with a bow hung over her back, one male looks like a warrior, another looks like a priest, and the final one looks like a magus. Each of them look young, aside from the warrior, who is holding a rather large shield and appears to be aged a not insignificant amount more than the others.

The dumbfounded group remained like that for a while, staring directly into me whilst I was staring into them, the first one to regain composure was the middle aged man. He calmly told the rest of the group to slowly back off, and they obediently listened, never breaking away their gazes even while they back up.

“Old man, what is that supposed to be?”

After they backed up a suitable distance the female huntress asked the warrior that appeared to be some sort of mentor to the group a question.

“...I’m not entirely sure, it’s appearance is similar to a dryad but not close enough to call it one.”

The warrior answered as best he could to the question thrown at him.

“...it doesn’t appear to be hostile?”

The priest broke the silence with a half question of his own.

“I guess not, should we see if it’s intelligent?”

The magus who was the only one to not speak until now proposed a course of action, the others unanimously agreed and decided the huntress would be the best one to make contact with me given her experience with nature, and partly due to the fact she looked the least threatening.

She slowly but deliberately walked up to me showing me she meant no harm, all this while I’ve been observing, I find them fascinating, the emotions that play out on their faces, both unique and recognisable. Surprise, fear, confusion and then finally, curiosity. She walks up to me and holds out her hand with the palm facing towards the sky, I turn to look at her, a hint of nervousness is on her face.

She has short brown and messy hair, I made note that she is both thinner and shorter than the others, I move my wooden hand, much larger and thicker than hers, my fingers themselves resemble claws and my palm is the standard swirling pattern on many trees.

I place my hand on top of hers out of intrigue and I feel something rushing through my hand, it rushes from her to my clawed fingers and then all the way up my arm to my skull. I look up at her suddenly but she looks back surprised at my sudden head movement, I somehow doubt she did something and instead focus on the feeling inside my head.

I focus in on that feeling and suddenly I’m browsing through memories, not my memories, hers. It’s not all of them but just a few, some about her mother when she was small teaching her to read, some about her father teaching her how to shoot a bow, and some about her playing in the woods with other children. Fond memories, kind and gentle, the kind that make me yearn for a home, for family.

She appears to not be aware of me reading some of her memories, I think I’ve learnt enough for today, I retract my hand, but not without mild surprise from the huntress. I take one last look at the group and walk deeper into the swamp.