*Had just walked further into the forest; after stomping out the fire, heard someone was near in a carriage of some sort, or something drawn by animal; and from on the outside they might see him that close to the edge of the treeline.
Abomination, that's what I am, That's what Ive tried to show people I'm not, and by some freak cause of magically mistake identity, literally speaking, that's still what people believe.
Jasper quickly stopmed out the fire and grabbed his staff, shoving the rest of his goods in the nearest bush. By the time he was done the tendrils of smoke still drifting from the dying fire pit were loosing life; stretched almost too thin before reaching Jaspers nostrils but apparent none the less when coupled only with the sweet air of forest moss and honeysuckle.
In his haste, what evidence he'd destroyed he hoped would be enough to throw any followers off his trail. The sound of the carraige was still far off enough he would make great distance leaving now so he did,and at a quick stride,into the forest without any light but the pale blue glow from the top of the bastian staff, though quite dim now; it's as if it knows to be cautious. A half hour later Jasper found the trees to be growing as thick as his thoughts.
"I didn't even want to come into the forest, and now I'm in the middle of it!"
Forced to move slower, Jasper made well aware of his surroundings and any sounds within earshot. The carriage, far off now; still audible, although without any tell of whether it's coming or gong now.
The air is chilly and somehow solid or crisp with a hint of holiday about it.
It didn't matter how many times jasper told himself that holiday's like christmas or halloween don't exist in [[[TITLE ]]] anything, as subtle as a faint scent or as obvious as a place, his memories are still from another world. A mist, ethereal and pouring in, quickly enveloped the surrounding trees; even at midday the mist was more like smoke and thicker and than that of the campfire.
The surrounding area at first had seemed lively, Jasper hadn't seen any animals but since leaving the campsite the thought that something was just beyond his peripheral kept bothering him. Now, everything is subdued and accompanied by a profound silence. Other than his own breathing and strides, which had both become faster, Jasper moved silently; and carefully, acutely aware of the fog and it's curling tufts as it began to mingle with his legs.
In the darkness of the forest, the Bastian Staff began to grow brighter with Jaspers rising fear. Off to his left, the staff's light reflected off the sticky sap from a stump in the ground
The stump was perfect, pristine, cut impossibly level and at first touch felt cool and moist; as if recently chopped down. The area closest to the stump is untouched though; there's no evidence of anything being dragged from this place. Right next to the odd stump fresh grass grew and a few preposterous flowers were in bloom all around as well. "Absurd," Jasper thought, "Mysteriously growing indeed; there isn't enough light penetrating the forest canopy to permit this kind of growth."
Sleep had been filling jasper's eyes since he stopped running, overwhelming him with tearful sticky eyes. Carelessly afraid, nothing mattered. The rooty stump, inviting now, seemed to call Jasper's name from somewhere deep within the hollow. "It's got to be in my head" persuasion came easily and he sat, proped up on the root with his head leaned back looking up through the trees seeing random stars between the leaves. the blinking became hypnotic lulling him to sleep. But sleep never came. Laying there, completely relaxed he stayed in between being awake and asleep. conscious and yet unable to move arms or legs. The Bastian Staff lay right out of reach and other than rolling his head side to side there is nothing he can do. With what he could see through blurred vision, the fog moved as if alive.
The breathy coolness of the fog chilled to the core, moving rapidly around him. Fingers of mist came searching, crawling through the otherwise still air; long stems the mist guided by etherealy moving arms
The Bastian Staff.
left by the ancestors.
a museum curator, that works closley with old artifacts, restoring them to their true state.
