Don’t go into forests. If you must, then don’t go alone. If you must go alone, reconsider what you’re doing. Do not go into forests.

Trust me, whatever you think you need there, you don’t. There are no circumstances under which a truly sane person should ever choose to risk getting lost, injured, or eaten. However, as you can see, I am an idiot.

Stumbling around in the woods that I never should have entered to begin with, I try to find an exit. The next best course of action when entering a forest is to promptly leave said forest. For you see, I am an idiot, but I am not a complete idiot. Unfortunately, all trees look remarkably identical to people that do not care about trees. Their wide trunks stretch into the canopy and beg the sun to fall, eager to devour the light with their sprawling branches.

Now, you might wonder how someone that lives next to such a large forest knows nothing of trees; to that I can only answer that I much preferred the company of bound inky paper to nature, or even to other people. I needed nothing from the forest, so I took nothing from the forest. I could see the whole world between those pages, so why should I have gone anywhere else? Regardless, a day came when I did have need.

You see, fate is a malcontent creature; it hisses if you look for it and pees on you if you ignore it. Afterall, why should I have agreed to be the ‘chosen one’ or whatever? For what point should I have stuck out my neck and given up both time and energy in service of ‘the people’? In the end, didn’t they really just mean to foist all the work on some kid by handing me a sword so legendary in was practically dust? I couldn’t even lift the ridiculous thing; it was unreasonably long, and far gaudier than anything wielded in combat should ever be. They assured me that ‘training and time’ would make me ‘worthy to lift the blade’, but I’m fairly certain they just didn’t want to admit that the old beast was better left as a decoration.

It was around six years ago now that I told them I wouldn’t be attempting to slay the Demon Lord Dragon King Supreme Evil Master of Darkness Void Space Conqueror: Dreadfang Slayer XI of the Greyflame dynasty. (Heck of a mouthful, I know, but his Supreme Dorkness demands it.) Anyways, I touched the special rock, it glowed, everyone made a big deal about it, got the job brief, declined it, and went home. Everything was fine and dandy, except that I would occasionally receive spam mail; I repurposed the fancy paper into little origami creatures, so don’t worry about the waste. I may not want to be the Royal Lacky, but I respect the health of the environment.

But I’ve digressed, you see, the trees around here have a nasty habit of stealing. Well, not the trees exactly, but the spirits that live inside them. The little imps usually stick to taking food from open windows and such though, so it’s anyone’s guess why my current project was of interest to them. I could have let them keep it and just started over, but that particular work was a commission, and I was only a couple chapters from completing the transcription. I should have let them keep it, because now I’m three hours past lost and about a dozen evergreens past no return. Note to self: Do not go into the forest.

Just about the only way this could get worse is if I managed to slip down a hidden cave entrance. I eyed the leaflitter around me suspiciously. It would be dark soon, better not to take any chances.

Lucis. A scattering of little lights flicker into being around my feet and legs, providing just enough light to keep me from falling over myself.

Despite deciding to give up on my self-assigned quest, I couldn’t just teleport back. Amongst this many spirits I’d need their permission to alter space, and I hadn’t thought to bring anything to offer. I’ll just have to go the old-fashioned way. Except, since I don’t know where I am, I have no idea which way the nearest exit is. A shiver runs down my back, so I mumble a quick warming spell. Freezing to death is not on my most preferred activities list.

Dusk turns the forest into a burgeoning cacophony of activity. The diurnal animals trade places with the many creatures of the night that had been waiting in the eaves. I consider climbing into one of the trees. The last thing I need is for a pack of wick-wolves to sniff me out, and they’re the least troublesome predators around at night. Say what you will about the self-immolating floofs, but at least you can bribe them with magic. The casket-birds would just eat you on sight!

I reached out to the lowest branch of a nearby tree and grabbed on… I didn’t anticipate how hard this would be. I struggled against gravity, fighting to move my body upwards, but I never built up any tree-climbing muscles. I could lift Erastus’ Ten Tomes no problem, but it seems that strength doesn’t translate so conveniently. Nor stamina, as I slide to the ground. I give up. Let them eat me. You win, fate. I curled into my knees, resting my head against my arms and waiting to either die or fall asleep.

…

Well, this is anticlimactic.

I regard the translucent blue fox pulling on my sleeve. The water-sprite is tugging desperately, trying to move my arm out from under my head. I purse my lips and watch, head placed firmly on my arm. Its little gurgles amuse me. Struggle harder, little fox.

Its round eyes glare up at me as if it could hear my thoughts.

The morning light shines between the trees, probably bending its way through the forest via the minor leylines in the air. It glistens on the dew drops and refracts around inside the fox’s spirit body, casting waves of light onto the ground. It’s beautiful, but annoyingly bright.

Somehow the dangers of the night passed by on their own. Well, no matter, better not to question why the forest didn’t kill you.

I yawn and let the fox have my arm, wiping the sleep from my eyes with my other hand. Finally getting what it wants, it tries to pull me along further. I stand to follow it, since there’s nothing else to do I may as well humor it. Of course, it’s not exactly advisable to follow fey manifestations around, but as we have established: I am something of an idiot.

Now, when lost in the woods, you are supposed to sit and wait for rescue. Even I know that much. Unfortunately, people will only come to rescue you if they know you’ve gone into the woods in the first place. So, I’m out of luck.

Call for someone with magic, you say? Ah yes, let me give my exact coordinates to any magically inclined being along the way while I’m at it. That isn’t a terrible idea. I’m sure I’ll be completely fine. Definitely won’t get turned into a magic-saturated snack by some peckish horde or other.

At least the little fox-sprite isn’t strong enough to take my magic by force. Much safer than my other options, really. I stretch and hum as we go along, taking in the moss creeping up the side of a fallen trunk. Rounded plates of orange fungi dotted it’s length like thick misshapen scales, truly a fearsome dragon of a log. Although, it seems its spot in the canopy was quickly filled by a young broad-leafed specimen. Beyond the log is a shallow river that I know from maps cuts this whole area in half between my homeland, Arkos, and Regigoss.

Great. I knew I was far in, but a day and some change isn’t long enough to get here from my house. Blasted tree spirits, warping my path in the opposite direction of where I wanted to go. Well, at least I know approximately where I am.

Yip! The fox calls to me.

“So…?” I gesture around, skeptical.

It circles around my legs before darting over to a lumpy square of rocks. No, I realize as I walk closer, a fairy-ring. It was just an ugly one made of plain bulbous mushrooms instead one of the more commonly used smaller species. So, the little fox wanted to take me somewhere I’d definitely never be found again, hmm? Maybe it was too soon to think it wouldn’t try to eat me… Whatever.

I step into the ring with the fox.

The minor leylines ripple up, looping around the perimeter. The glowing bands of rarely visible unassigned energy condense into an iridescent net overhead. Then with the quietest pop, it slides us through the flow and out the other side. Another ring, equally mishappen, who knows where.

That’s the danger with stray rings, after all, no way of knowing where they lead to until you get there.