A watcher standing among the Centaur Hills one bright autumn's afternoon would
have seen a strange sight: a young centaur mare dragging an even younger
centaur colt along by the arm, with an extremely vexed expression on her face.
"How many times must I tell you?" the mare snaps, giving the colt a little
shake for emphasis. "You are not to wander alone! -Especially- not out of the
forest!"

The colt looks sullen, and scuffs his hoof rather sulkily in the dirt. "I'm not
a -foal-, Kithea," he complains. "You don't have to run after me watching me all
the time! I can take care of myself-- what am I going to do, trip over thin air
and break all my legs?"

The mare stares at him, an expression of disbelief on her face. Then the anger
drains out of her like water out of a broken bowl, and she sighs. "You do think
that, do you not?" she says quietly. "I had forgotten that you were too young to
know..." An expression of sorrow crosses her face, and she sits down there among
the green grass, folding her legs gracefully beneath her body. She motions for
the colt to do the same.

"Let me tell you a tale," she says. "It is a grievous story rarely spoken of,
but you must know this lest you think us over-protective and overbearing.
Listen well, for this is the history of what happened when I myself was a colt,
and the danger that lurks beyond the forest."

--------------------------------

It was springtime then, my first spring. All things were new and wonderful: the
blossoming flowers, the newly green leaves on the trees, the steady drip of snow
as it melted. I had never seen any of it before, and my curiosity was
insatiable. I ran heedlessly through the hills and the woodland, laughing in
sheer exhilaration.

Before me raced another colt, my good friend Ferias. He was swifter than I,
even at so young an age, and he called to me as he dashed heedlessly through
the undergrowth. I urged myself on, trying to overtake him, but I could not
have done so had he not slowed and waited for me to catch up. I was out of
breath by then, but still giggling helplessly, with no real reason save that I
was me, and it was spring.

"Where are the others?" I asked him, and he shrugged, his mane of dark hair
tumbling rather wildly around his face.

"Who cares?" he said. "They're no fun anyway. They're all good little foals,
rushing back whenever Poloma calls."

I frowned, not sure whether to take offence or not, for Poloma was my mother.
But in truth he was almost just as closely related, for he was my cousin. He
seemed not to care, though, and did not bother to hide his ridicule for the
rules all of us were taught: Do not stray out of the forest, do not follow
those not of the forest, and always return by sundown. So far I had always
obeyed them, but had never thought to ask why.

"Well!" he exclaimed then, with a swift grin at me. "I hope you feel up to
running about today!"

"I always am," I replied, wondering what mad scheme he'd devised today. We had
done a number of those in our time: burying Abeytu's rake, slipping weed into
the alchemists' alembic while they brewed health potions, and switching letters
around in the Post office. Most of the time I was the one who got caught, but he
always showed up later to take the blame. "What are you planning?"

He looked around, then leaned close. "Did you notice how Miakoda always hands
out leaves to the two-legged people? I've always wanted to know what they were
for, but she never tells me, and the two-legs won't tell either. Let's go and
steal some of them, what say you?"

"Um," I said. "What good will that do us? They're just -leaves-, Ferias. They
grow all over the place." I gestured vaguely at the forest around us.

He frowned, then shook his head vehemently. "There's something special about
these. I know it." He tilted his head at me. "So are you coming or not?" He
knew the answer, of course. I always went.

So it was that, barely half an hour later, I crept through the undergrowth to
the Moonhart Mother Tree. My mission was plain: to provide a distraction while
Ferias accomplished his task. Gathering myself in a trot, I raced into the
clearing beneath the Mother tree, my arms windmilling wildly, and charged into
a nearby cluster of fae surrounding a sleeping wiccan. They cried out in
surprise, scattering like leaves on an autumn wind, and out of the corner of my
eye I saw Miakoda rise from where she sat, a startled look crossing her face. At
this same time, unseen by any save myself, Ferias snuck by and grabbed a handful
of leaves from where Miakoda had been sitting.

"Young colt--" the Moonhart maiden began sternly, but Ferias grabbed my hand
and dragged me away, and we ran like the wind through the bright forest. In our
haste, a moonhart leaf fluttered out of Ferias' grip, and fell to the ground;
and neither of us noticed the dark shadow that descended from the sky to seize
the fragile leaf.

---------------------------------------

It was almost sundown when a shrill voice echoed through the commune on the
aetherwaves. It was a pixie's voice, screaming for help.

"Where are you?" came the strong, calm voice of our elder, Tokota Snowmane.

"I don't know! I'm not in the forest!" yelled the panicked pixie.

"How can this be?" That was a voice I knew well: my own mother, Poloma
Truehoof. "There is an enchantment on the forest: no pixie should ever wander
outside, unless someone leads them out. And none can do that without a Moonhart
leaf."

"I'm trapped here-- bound in shadows by a stranger!" the pixie cried shrilly.
"Help me, please!"

A chill shiver of fear ran through me. Wide-eyed, I looked toward Ferias, who
looked pale and sick with horror. "Ferias," I whispered, "what have we done?"

He said nothing, and I knew that he knew the implications of our prank better
than I myself. "Kithea," he said quietly, "We've got to get that pixie back."

"But--" I faltered. I was afraid, so nervous that I was shaking. Out of the
corner of my eye, I saw that he was in no better state. "Could we not tell
them? Tell the elders what we did, and ask them to help? They wouldn't mind,
I'm sure of it. Besides, we've got to be back by sundown..."

He shook his head, and I recognized the gleam in his eye: it was the same that
he had whenever a new, mad adventure took his fancy. "No," he said. "We did
this, and we're going to undo it. At least, I am. I can outrun any of the
two-legged in the forest. Are you with me?"

I wasn't, of course. There was a foreboding upon my heart, but I was too young
to recognise it for what it was: the foresight of our people that had descended
on me for the first time in my short life. A vision flashed before my eyes, of
red blood on white stones. "Don't," I whispered, but he had already started
trotting through the forest, and I had no choice but to follow.

"Do you even know where they are?" I asked him softly. He shook his head.

"Must be on the road somewhere," he whispered.

"We aren't supposed to go there, Ferias."

"I don't care. Gods all damn it, Kithea, I'm going to do this and I don't care
about Poloma's stupid rules. What harm can come to me?" I saw him hesitate, as
if to add something else, then he shook his head and cantered on. The woods
thinned before us, and soon we were at the edge of the forest. I hesitated once
more: this was truly the point of no return.

Suddenly I spied movement along the road. I tugged at Ferias' arm, and pointed
eastwards. A stranger was there, wearing a dark coat and hood so we could not
see his face. Beside him was the pixie, wrapped in what looked to be bonds of
living shadow, looking sickly and haggard. I bit my lip so hard that it bled.
"What if he sees us?"

Ferias hesitated, then took a step forward. "He's too far to do anything to me.
I'll see if I can distract him-- if he chases me, you free the pixie." Before I
could say anything, he galloped out into the middle of the road with a wordless
cry.

The stranger looked up sharply, and the hooded face turned towards Ferias and
then directly towards my hiding place. I froze in terror. Then the two-legged
person gave a sharp, harsh caw, and terror filled me, telling me to run, run.
And so I would have, had not my fear been so great as to make my legs too weak
to move. The stranger raised his arms, and the coat slipped off. I saw then
that he wore a black cloak of crow feathers. He moved his arms in a violent
gesture, and I saw Ferias stumble. Then, improbably, he seemed to blur, and was
dumped in an unceremonious heap at the stranger's feet.

I screamed incoherently, not even remembering to use the aetherwave. In the
distance I heard footsteps and hoofbeats coming towards me, but my attention
was focused on the scene before my eyes as the stranger raised his sickle and
made a swift slashing motion. Ugly sores broke open on Ferias' skin, and he
fell, oddly graceful, onto the cold stones of the road. I stumbled backward,
fully expecting to die next, but the stranger merely glared at me again-- and I
could see his face now, contorted in hatred-- and turned his sickle instead on
the pixie, who fell without a cry.

A spear sailed through the air and onto the road, missing the stranger by
inches. A hunter cantered up beside me, his face set in a grimace as he hefted
another spear in hand. With a thunder of hoofs, more hunters arrived, and
spread out to encircle the stranger. The stranger laughed, a cold and terrible
noise, lifted his crow-feather cloak, and fluttered off into the sky.

"Ferias!" I knew that voice, that face. It was my mother's sister, Ferias'
mother. Heedlessly, she dashed past the ring of hunters and onto the road,
gathering up her son's still body. For a long moment she stared at his lifeless
form: then, the tears streaming down her face, she cried out to the heavens.
"Damn you, Crow! You who kill our young and hound our days! May all the gods
curse you!"

The cold horror that had gripped me loosened of a sudden, and I found that I
too was crying, great shaking breaths of sorrow and fright. Strong arms
encircled me, and I looked up into my own mother's face. "I feared the worst,"
whispered my mother, and I felt her tremble as well even as she held me.

"Why-- why did he die and I live?" I whispered.

"You were protected," she said. "While the flame burns, we are safe from Crow.
But only when we are within the forest."

"You never told us," I said. "We would not have disobeyed if we knew--"

"No," said my mother. "But the truth would have frightened you, and the whole
reason why we fight so is that our children may grow without fear. One day when
you are grown you will understand, Kithea." And she led me softly away, back to
the stillness of our home. I would grieve later for my friend, with days spent
in the shadow of his grave, but on that spring eve I was beyond all joy or
sorrow. Everything seemed unnaturally clear before my eyes, and only later did
I know that this was the foresight of my people, newly descended upon me.

I stopped being a child that day, in every sense.

-------------------------------------------

"It is a sad story," says the mare. "And to stay within the forest is what all
the foals have learned since-- their first lesson. It is why there are rules.
Not to give us power, but to keep you safe." She makes a strange, vague
gesture, almost pleading. "I would not see you hurt, little brother."

"I did not know," said the colt slowly. "And it scares me, all the times I
stepped outside the forest, never knowing the danger... I am afraid, Kithea."

"One day when you are grown, you too must take your place among the hunters of
our people," says the mare. "Then you will be strong, and it will be your turn
to protect those in the forest. But do not be afraid, for the forest itself
protects you always from the dark power of tainted Crow, as long as you are
willing to let it do so."

"We are safe, then?"

"As long as the Flame burns, little one."

The mare smiles, and takes the colt's hand; and hand in hand they wander
through the forest, into the fading autumn twilight.