Vito hugged his cloak closer. It wasn't cold, but he was uncomfortable. He had traveled all day, walking along the familiar paths in the forest until his feet ached.

Crickets sounded through the air, welcoming the night even if he didn't. He wasn't sure if he should take the next step, the step that would take him out of the forest and onto a meadow. The choice should be simple, it made more sense to stay inside the forest until morning, but it wasn't what a brave man would do, and he desperately wanted to feel brave.

He took a step and his foot landed in the tall grass. It felt strangely exhilarating and frightening at the same time. He had not been outside the forest in five years, and he sent a grumbling mental message to Qumo that he should have brought him on more missions. He was unprepared, and it scared him. There was no room for failure, and no one there to pick up the pieces if something went wrong.

He was alone.

The sun was about to set, and he realized that bravery wasn't the same as foolishness. If he wanted to stay out of sight for a while longer, he would do best to stay inside the forest until the last beams of sunlight died down at the horizon. He went back and sat down with his back against an old oak. His breathing slowed immediately, as if his body wanted nothing more than to sleep -- preferably right away.

Hours later, he woke up with a start. Disoriented, he stared out towards the open sky and blinked again and again. Where was he? he wondered, until he remembered. He wasn't at home anymore. He looked back into the forest, breathing in the fragrances to calm him down. He wasn't truly away as long as he still remained within the forest, or so he told himself. He reluctantly returned his gaze to the vast sky, littered with stars. He didn't remember it being so big. In the forest, you saw only patches of it between the towering tree crowns. He recalled reading about a few of the constellations, and began his search to find them.

He smiled when he found the Raven. Qumo had told him of that one, of how it represented Io's flight from the Creator towards the Earth. It was an odd story, and it didn't make much sense. From what he knew, Io had always grown up from a child to adulthood before he made his presence known. He didn't just come down from the sky, flying in to save the day. He wondered if Io had known who he was from the start, or if he learned as he grew older. He hadn't read anything about that in the scrolls that littered Qumo's library.

He let his gaze wander until he ended up looking out over the meadow. It felt less threatening in the darkness, which was odd in itself. Perhaps it was because he couldn't see very far in the dark: that way, it didn't look so large.

He heaved himself off of the ground and put the small rucksack on his back. It was time to move. This time he didn't look back. There was no use. He had a mission, and he wouldn't let fear determine the outcome. He would find what he was looking for; if not for himself, then for Juno.

An hour later, he found that crossing the meadow had been the easy part. There, he hadn't been worried about meeting someone. He stood beneath a young linden tree, looking out over a dirt track that was wide enough to accommodate a horse drawn carriage. Clearly, it was a frequented road, and that made him shift from one foot to the other every few seconds. The sun was about to rise, and even if he shouldn't be afraid of people, he was. Or rather, he was worried. He knew that they would take one look at his eyes and run in the other direction, or at least that's what usually happened.

Once again, he decided that he could either wallow in self-pity about the fact that he was a Human with strange eyes, or he could ignore it and be happy. As long as people ran away instead of attacking, things should be fine. After all, fearing Humans because they feared him was a silly notion.

He took a deep breath and stepped out on the road. He turned west and let the sounds of bird song over-power the shrieking voices inside his head.

-----

He settled into the saddle, trying to make himself comfortable. He had been riding for days, and yet, his bum refused to accept its current situation. It protested angrily with each step the horse took. Despite the ache, he was glad for the horse. It was a tempered one, steady on its feet with a happy disposition. He knew little of horses, but this one didn't seem to mind. He had acquired it in the first small village he passed, and he knew it was a streak of luck: a world torn apart by countless wars was always short on horses.

Perhaps this one was too scrawny to use in the fields, which could have been the reason for owners' accommodating spirits, or it could perhaps also be the fact that his eyes had scared the hell out of them. When he thought about it, he wasn't sure if they really sold him the horse. He had left them some money when he took the gelding, but they had never agreed on a price... Well, nothing to do about it now, they had received money and he had a good horse. Nothing to complain about.

It had been extremely uncomfortable talking to other Humans. It had been such a long time ago that he had actually met one, and he had never done it alone before. Qumo, or someone else always did the talking, he had been a simple listener. He still tried to hold on to the notion that he would disregard how people looked at him, but his skin still prickled a little whenever he saw someone looking. Apart from the farmers, he had avoided other Humans as much as possible. He slept underneath the stars and had managed to ration his portions so that he didn't need to find a tavern. His provisions were running thin, but right now it didn't matter. He knew he was close to his goal, and that was enough to keep him happy.

His eyes traveled towards the hills on his right. They were undulating in the open landscape, like large waves moving across the ocean. Scattered clusters of trees broke the view, clinging on to each other like their lives depended on it. Otherwise the landscape was made out of grass, shrubs, and more grass. He saw a few sheep and cows grazing, and caught sight of a man sitting on a stone close by. He waved towards him, but received none in return. Avoiding people wasn't the same as being completely un-civil. He still nodded or waved to other travelers, at least when they wouldn't catch sight of his white eyes. He had found that it made things easier on the road. A wave was innocent and allowed him to blend in. Not waving made you seem suspicious.

He let his eyes return to the road again. He knew he was getting close; he had known for days, but seeing these hills that his dreams had shown him for the last ten years was a bit haunting. He decided to get off his mount and walk the rest of the way. Something about approaching on foot felt better, or more right.

As the sun's last rays played at the horizon he found the valley he was looking for. The trees stood guard, tall and imposing, and even he felt their presence. It was a strange feeling, one that seeped into his bone, making his skin prickle. His horse neighed softly, obviously feeling the same thing. He patted its neck, trying to convey a calm he didn't feel himself.

He pressed forward through the first line of trees despite his sizzling nerves and cramping stomach. There wasn't much else to do. He couldn't really go back and say. 'Hey, I chickened out...' However, what met him on the other side made him stumble on the even ground. A cold shiver ran up his spine at the sight. There was no forest, only that first dense line. Hidden behind it was a perfectly circular clearing. A haunting meadow with a thin blanket of fog hovering over the tall grass. A small pond with pitch black water lay right in the middles of it, calling out to him, beseeching him to come closer. The tension lay heavy in the air, so thick that it felt like he couldn't breathe.

He stopped, tied the reins to a low branch, and left his only comfort behind as he made his way to the center. He knew what he had to do and his life was expendable if it came to that. All that mattered was to follow the voice that had led him here. The voice that called out to him and told him what he had to do.

When his feet reached the shore he forced himself to peer into its depth. He was afraid of what he would see, even if he knew it was only water. When he finally opened his eyes, he was hit by a sensation of falling, suspended in air and time: outside of reality. His vision swam and he lost his grip on the world. He lost his grip on everything.

Find him. Find him before it is too late

He heard the words spoken with his own voice, formed with his mouth, but those weren't his words. He closed his eyes and his thoughts began to swirl ruthlessly inside his head. He was battered by images that were not his own, pounding on his mind relentlessly. They mingled with his memories, creating something new and alien in his mind, making him scream out in agony, a scream that echoed around the valley.

He screamed until he saw a face before him. When it flashed by, his body gave in and he began to heave. He heaved again and again, throwing up nothing but the burning acid from the depth of his stomach. He heaved until he had nothing left but that obscure image of a dark face with piercing green eyes.