It is here where we are born, in the mists of the wood. The air is thick, heavy, and visions are blurred. All around us our shadows, enigmas who wrap around their newest affectionately. In the distance the sounds of water crashing into an ancient creek bed can be heard, ears afloat to all that they can capture. However, it is that sound that becomes the memorable tune that reminds us that we could just as easily been drowned beneath its waters. Though we never do drown, do we? All these forces keep us away from any death. Even in the depths of the darkness we succumb to as we slumber we live, never knowing why the flames never snuff out.

I knew such a birth for a moment. I awoke to strange sensations, sensations I knew when I first experienced life as one of them, but today I was not young. My legs were stout and my antlers long. I could feel the magic grasp onto me, always making this place aware of my presence. Things were not the same, though. My antlers no longer flickered with the flames of candles, my face no longer was hidden by the thickened callous of a skull, and my pelt could blow in the breeze as the wind whipped between the trees. Things were not right, and I was panicked.

With each leap I tried to get away from this strange body, and each time I fell with my hooves sinking deeper into the ground to remind me that escape was not so easy. It was through a shake of my head as I fought that I caught the glimmer of an ethereal stone. I could hear its trickle, and I remembered such sounds meaning water. Perhaps it was the solution to changing me back. As I crept forward I found the waters shallow, too shallow to throw myself into. As I looked down into it, I could see reflections of the sky…and of myself. It was the image of a sickening creature, one I had chosen to forget. In that reflection I was nothing.