Adventure of Wolfie 1

Wolfie slips out from the ancient oak and into a lower stretch of woods where the ground softens into moss and black soil. A narrow stream runs beside him, whispering over stones. The canopy thickens overhead, dimming the light to a green hush.

He yawns and walks past the others, star-silk cushion tucked under his arm. The stream cools the air around his robes, and the forest seems to loosen its grip behind him.

Wolfie reaches the moss bank at the stream's bend. The cushion glows faintly against the damp dark, and the water's murmur almost covers the distant rustle of branches.

At the far edge of the bank, a pale ribbon of mist curls into the roots, as if something just beneath the ground is stirring.

Wolfie gives the bank a lazy nod and keeps going, cushion tucked close against the damp chill. The stream hushes behind him as the woods thicken ahead.

He steps off the moss and onto darker soil, where fern fronds tremble without wind. The pale ribbon pulls between roots like a path only half there.

As he follows it, the glow of the cushion dims and brightens once, answering something under the earth.

The Watcher stays back at the stream edge, no longer blocking the way. Bram watches from farther off, but neither of them moves to stop Wolfie.

Ahead, the mist parts around a shallow hollow under willow roots, dry and windless, with leaf litter piled like bedding. The quiet there is almost complete.