It had been nothing more than a strange dream, and yet, the uneasiness remained lodged like a thorn beneath the flesh. Every movement caused it to pang; all around him the smallest blink made shadows twist and the fog of time vanished for a second. Just long enough to put everything to question. Any other such vision would have abated with time, the details turning muddy as wakefulness found new thoughts and left the memory to shatter into little more than vague déjà vu snapshots. This, though, it would not leave him alone.

He wanted to speak with someone about it, any of it or maybe all of it, but the dream had left him so confused that before he could begin to speak, his thoughts would instead spiral. Nonsense was not conducive to conversation; it was even less conducive to figuring out anything at all. At this rate, he'd been unable to do anything but continue to weave himself into knots. He wanted to be able to speak a full sentence before he spoke to Born Again. The other buck would know instantly that something was dreadfully wrong, if he didn't already know. Actually, he must have known, but still it was not enough to dispel the intricate ties that tangled around his mind.

It had taken him—how long had it been since that dream? It was yesterday and all the same from before he was even born. One moment it was as if it had happened to someone else altogether and he had done nothing but bear witness. The next it was a living trauma that was still happening, but it was not violence or even berating; it had no definition, for it was a mess that made no sense at all. But then why would it not fade? There was something different, something even special perhaps, about it and he had no clue about any of it.

Dream. Vision. Nightmare.

He sat up, still as a frozen pond, and then bounced to his feet in such haste that he nearly tripped. He could talk to Nightmare! Nightmare would listen regardless of if he understood it. In fact, Nightmare did not have to understand it for Sylph to talk and start to straightening his twisting thoughts. Thank the Mo—his whole body convulsed, his mouth going dry and his stomach lurching. No. He dare not even think it; he would, perhaps, never say it again.

The world for all its sameness, untouched by the strangeness that had upended his whole world view, was profoundly changed. He had seen something, or been apart of something, and it went against all he had ever known. The being, whether it was them or someone else, had succeeded in nothing but lessening any power it may have had. He, his soul had been bared and left bleeding in front of something, someone, and they had not seen him. His hard fought life, his ability to trust. All of it forsaken for no reason at all. Ironic, perhaps, that he had trusted it and now he still trusted, but not them. Not it.

Coldness, even in the blazing heat as summer looms around the corner, lingered in his body. He curled so closely, so tightly next to Born Again now. It was only living kin, living pets like Present and Gift who could warm him. He pulled in a breath, shaky and stuttering as the memories sharpened. It could not wait, no matter that it was nearly time that most kin would be getting ready to settle in for the night. Born Again would not think ill of him were he not here, he would understand that he needed to clear his troubled mind. It still hurt to pull himself away, to let the coldness breathe pricks of pain mingled with numbness into his muscles.

He turned his head, looked into the darkening swamp.

The sound of thundering hooves spooked the settling wildlife as Sylph broke into a run. Behind him, warning growls from his mini bears erupted. No one would approach him; all he had to do was find Nightmare.

Nightmare stood still in the bushes, looking out into the distant meadow where the sound of a beautiful song was being sung. He was not close enough to be seen by the kin singing. He did not need to see her to know who sang the enticing melody. He had heard her song many times before, and he'd hear them many times more if he could. He stood on guard, listening to the melody as though if it stopped the world would end. He kept his distance, still unable to approach her despite Hummingbird's attempt to ease him into things.

As the sound grew nearer to him, Nightmare grew uneasy. He did not wish to scare her, although he felt as though that was all he could do.

His large body shifted, and he stepped back. He turned around and moved incredibly slow, nearly waddling, back toward his cave by the lake. It was secluded there, and unfortunately, too far to hear the singing though.

As he waddled through the woods, a trail of mini bears followed him. At least they did not make an attempt to ride him today.

anemosagkelos wrote:

As fatigue flooded into his muscles, Sylph began to slow into a beleaguered walk. Thought had been stilled when he was running as all his attention was focused on breathing—one breath in through his nose, one breath out through his mouth, repeat. Even with burning lungs, the speed had been well worth it if only because it left his mind quiet. He had almost forgotten what a quiet mind was like; he might have remembered if he could be at all conscious during slumber. Alas . . .

A song trickled from the wide meadow that bordered the shaggy buck's usual haunt. He wondered, ears twitching, if that could be the kin that had so besotted his friend. Should he look? Should he talk to her? Should—he sighed as Gift and Present took a mouthful of his tail and tugged. If he was going to cure himself of these rambling thoughts, then now was not the time to be distracted. Additionally, if Nightmare was listening or watching, then there was too much chance for confusion. For all his troubles, Sylph had learned his lesson in surprising his friend and he would not consider doing anything without the other buck's input and consent. He respected him too much to do otherwise.

He gave a weak smile to his mini bears—"You're right, of course,"—and turned in their direction. Away from the song, away from the meadow. If his friend was standing attention towards the songstress, he would eventually come back to his cave near the lake. Especially with his entourage of mini bears that would demand fish. Perhaps he could even start cultivating a supply for them now. It would lessen the chance of distraction. Although, thinking of it, had he ever introduced Gift and Present to the numbered quartet? Goodness, he couldn't even remember that small a detail. A haggard sigh escaped his lips. He truly was a wreck.

Over a count of seven, Sylph pulled in a long and deep breath to fill his lungs. He held it as he counted to four and then released it slowly. It was not much further. He needed only to continue to move. One hoof, then another. He focused his mind on Nightmare, on the lake. Relief would come once he arrived there. It had to. He couldn't stand to be twisted into knots a second longer.

Nightmare had made his way back to his den with much effort as his appreciation for them not climbing him had been erased. It was as if they could read his mind and punish him sufficiently for the thought. His thoughts were much simpler than that though, focused mostly on the annoyance. He walked with great annoyance, kicking his back leg as one of the four made their attempt to climb him. They whined and cried, tired of his walk.

"NO," he said firmly as he dragged his feet.

As the lake came into view, the mini bears straightened up and made a dash for the lake. He walked toward it. Unlike the mini bears he went to the lake not for hunger but for thirst. He was a large, thick coated buck and the walk in the sun was draining.

The lake was within sight when he saw the well-known quartet of mini bears rushing towards the water. A smile blossomed on his face, bright, and when Nightmare came into sight, he felt his whole being lighten. All the thoughts of unease relaxed. Whatever being or deity, whatever mushroom or drink, whatever anxiety had created the realm within his dream state, did not matter here with his friend. Their simplicity, their genuine affection for one another, superseded any intoxication or swamp event that was going on. The Motherfather, the Other, the Legendaries were all trivial and apart of a different universe than the real, solid one that stood under his feet and flashed before his eyes as he walked towards his friend.

"Nightmare!" Sylph called out, soft enough to not spook but loud enough to be heard. He curled his tongue against the roof of his mouth and flicked it to create a dull click. The two mini bears looked up at him, and he jutted his chin out and up. This was all the permission they needed to break into a full run towards the lake. Water meant fish and fish meant food. A sentiment Sylph knew Nightmare's own pets shared.

With a smile, he started after his own duo. Mini bears were a voracious eater, but they were very open about their feelings and wants. He had become more so, open that was, ever since the mountains and the totoma. He wondered if they were in the swamp, if he should offer apologies or thanks. He supposed he'd enjoy doing anything that further confirmed he knew he was, always had in a sense. The dream, vision, nightmare had known nothing and been wrong. He had no doubt of that, he didn't doubt himself; it was the visage of deity that was nothing like he had been led to believe. And if it was the Motherfather, did that mean it was short-sighted? Had it lost its ability to think and to know? Were the Legendaries so many admired, a growing army of powers to suppress? Was the swamp in danger? Was the Motherfather evil? And if it was, then what did that make the rumblings of the Other? Was it not a shadow creeping into the swamp and into kin hearts and minds? Was it a savior come to rescue them? He shuddered, his hoof paused, before he gave his whole body a firm shake.

It was all so troubling.

He breathed out, looked at Nightmare. Steady, clear. A beacon of simple and honest. As long as he wasn't a doe, or Dream.

The familiar sound of Sylph walking through the bush alerted Nightmare of Sylph's presence moments enough before the other buck called out to him. Nightmare's familiar red glow of his eyes caught Sylph's as he called out to him before his head turned and leaned down to the shore of the lake. He drank freely as the buck approached, calmly as the duo of mini bears joined the other four. They did like multiplying, after all.

The four mini bears splashed around excitedly as the two joined them. It would be a lot easier to catch fish with six of them!

Not many visitors came to this lake, for it was small in comparison to the vast colony of lakes within the swamp and the location not nearly as convenient. However, on occasion, there were visitors. Sometimes Sylph came by. He didn't dislike when Sylph came by.

After drinking his fill, Nightmare stood back up. He waited stoically for Sylph by the water's edge, looking at him deeply.

The buck took his time approaching Nightmare. He could count on his friend to wait and felt no need to rush. In Nightmare—in Fluke, in Born Again—he could trust. Unlike the entity from his vision, whoever it had been. He wasn't ready to think about that, too much, now. After the mad dash through the swamp, a slight nudge of weariness pressed into his body. A feeling that was doubled when he came to stop beside the other buck. Perhaps it was the extra fur that made him want to curl close and sleep; Nightmare was like an overly large mini bear. He smiled, bemused at the thought, but pushed the thought and desire away.

"How are you, my friend?" Sylph asked, wanting to focus first on his friend rather than the reason he had fled. He had a feeling such a topic might obliterate any other that was brought up after it. There was for him a greater need to ensure that Nightmare felt that he, too, was listened to. That he was important. That he was equally, if not more, the center of attention of their conversations. Undoubtedly, it was a stronger pressure now after the terrible meeting with the deity, but it was not new. Indeed, he had to nearly bite his tongue not to ask if the buck understood how important he was. He could tell him later. He would tell him later.

His eyes glanced briefly towards the group of mini bears. That freedom, that ignorance, seemed like such a dream right now. What did a mini bear care what someone thought of it? It cared about fun and survival and fish. He smiled, wistful, at the rampant splashing and then glanced back at Nightmare. His opinion was important; the deity was no one and had never been an active part of his life. He had only had himself for that and then Fluke. And now Nightmare and Born Again, too. He had friends and love. Not that negative character traits would mean he could not have such, but they would not have been real.