Lift this. Please. Take away from me this weight heaped upon my chest and let the freedom of a harmless man displace this burdened air. What am I... to them? I am the sacrifice... the tortured soul that breathes despair by their fabricated democratic prosecution and their fraudulent decree--guilt by association, indeed. My pain will not break their windows as they slumber this night. No suffering will rap with bloodied, swollen knuckles at their doors. Yet they are incapable of comprehending the distance to which my screams will travel to meet their sanctimonious hearts. Lift this horrid constraint, for their sake, and I will squash my hatred here and now lest the spectre leave my weakened body, condensed and filled with wicked ways, and snatch up all their children as they skip away and tumble and play and frolic in their fields-- careless, intrepid, foolish. Lift this--I beg of you. Death does not pine for me, nor travel swiftly as heroes predict-- it scoffs at my anguish though I call for it by name. Do you hear me, Icy One?! I am yours! Wield your sharp and rigid shears to sever the sacred Thread of Days, and charge the buzzards once again to task. Enlist their beaks and appetites, engage their terrible practice upon my limp and lifeless flesh! Employ the worms to do their work! Devour every fiber, every cell down to the last. Erase every tiny gene-- the very architects of my construction-- to feed their young what putrid morsels they should find to line these starved and foul, repugnant bowels! Do your eyes deceive you, Death? Do your ears find my words pat and insincere? Do you suspect they want for candor? That tomfoolery you hear? Can I not provoke you, Spirit?! I spit at you! Do you see now, friend? What alternative conclusion can be drawn from this equation but that I simply cannot qualify for death's merciful release? Will he ban me from Hell and Heaven, both, simply to prolong my suffering? Lift this. Free from your sight this pathetic form, this shorn and flightless bird, this hollowed shell, this living hell... let the pulleys turn and the cable flex its twine. Let not this chapter end with routed, dismal, sullen truths--this long, tormented paragraph... loathsome rotten prose.

Thank you, dear Prosers, for your entries. The winner is @Akitoyu with The World of Studio Ghibli.

Movies, like all other art forms, shape and reflect our world. The many additions to the film industry created Studio Ghibli, and the other ground-breaking films discussed in the challenge, deserve recognition for their contributions.

As a treat for you who deserve a treat, please enjoy this little reminder of how transformative a simple score can be, as a token of my appreciation for your entries.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vsMWVW4xtwI

Maybe it just all comes down to perspective. I thought the world was a pretty decent place when I was the scourge within it. Now it seems like the world has gone to hell ever since I found Jesus.

I learned a long time ago, when you're trying to help other people, it's better to use other people's money because there's a very good chance it's not going to work anyway.

I picture a tall, steep hill, where a handful of people are on top--enjoying the view, a huge mass of people are at the bottom--not even trying, and a throng of people scrambling like crazy trying to make it to the top--but failing; and I can't help but think, around the backside of the hill, there's an escalator that only those handful of people ever knew about.

Now that I know much more about how the world works, I realize, not only is there an escalator on the backside of the hill, but there are a lot of people up there pushing down against those who are scratching and clawing their way upward. They create rules that make it harder to climb. They tell our children they should spend their energy fighting each other rather than climb.

They urge us to fight by focusing on our physical differences, our beliefs, and our origins, separating us into different groups; then telling us that separating people into groups based on our physical differences, beliefs, and origins is bad; then they say the people who are guilty of this crime are easily recognized by their physical differences, beliefs, and origins.

I think it's a cop-out to say I just need to stop putting so much value on the real estate at the top of the hill.

One top dweller thinks there are too many people and is actively seeking ways to reduce our numbers. There will be nothing we can do about it.

Have a nice day :)

I traveled once to a foreign place--foreign to me, anyway. A random place, not particular in my choosing, and not a destination but a stepping stone along the way to a destination I had not chosen--allow me to explain.

Making a living travel-blogging, particularly as a survivalist, demands a certain commitment to education before the trip. Fortunately, history enthralls me. My enthusiasm for local lore feeds that commitment well. Please, don't ask--for the sake of those reading, I'll never disclose this place. Along with treasure and beauty and glory and adventure, death and ruin await those who journey here.

Setting out, I had my equipment prepared, my gadgets and gizmos aligned, my pockets full... and all at once it dawned on me: to leave it all behind.

Past journeys to unknown destinations always began tainted. I'd choose places to which I'd never been, but always having some allure--Monaco, Milan, Rio, Beijing--then I'd prepare, properly, for conditions I knew I'd face. I'd find a clearing, look around, and choose a direction which surely offered the challenges for which I'd prepared. This journey... would be different. Not only would I not be prepared for what challenges lay ahead, but I would not bias the direction by looking around for... anything.

I stepped into an openness--I won't call it a clearing--and lulled myself into a state of oblivion. Clear the mind--eyes shut and covered with my hands as well. I turned in circles, moving my head up and down, alternating my gait in order to disorient myself. I uttered a low and constant hum to dissuade my ears from trying to locate myself. So committed to choosing a direction as random as chance itself, I spun and spun, and spun even more--to the point that I thought another turn would surely topple me. In honesty, the reason I was still spinning was because I genuinely feared choosing a direction... so I stopped.

Well, I stopped, but my head was still a hopeless whirlwind, anchored only by uneasy shoulders. Kneeling down to steady myself, only patience would help restore me. I looked down to be sure--to confirm the dizziness had subsided. The storm in my head had calmed.

Before my rational thought was fully restored, with my left arm, I pointed--behind me--as far as I could reach without turning. I had chosen; and on that random choice began my contribution to what future travelers would learn upon their investigation of local lore.

I turned to look, uphill, the horizon no more than a kilometer away toward the morning sun still climbing from the Earth. It was hard to clearly see, but I was quite certain, in the distance, I could see three small structures--houses perhaps--that I hadn't noticed before. Deciding I'd spent enough time spinning and kneeling, I stood again and walked toward them.

They were surrounded by outcroppings of huge stones. Flanking them, the horizon was lined with armies of trees. A bit nearer, I resolved in my mind that they were definitely structures--not mounds or bushy trees playing tricks on my eyes. Side-stepping occasional bushes and weeds kept me from a direct approach; however, stepping around one larger bit of growth, I lost sight of the structures completely. They were gone. Or were they? I took a few steps back, into the line of sight I'd had before circumventing the bushes. Like a mirage materializing on a desert floor, the buildings reappeared, as if hidden by a fold in space somewhere between us. Testing my vision, I bobbed my head side-to-side and watched them disappear and reappear, as if I were standing on a threshold into another universe. A strange phenomenon, for sure, and perhaps if I'd had more time, I would have contemplated it longer, but I resolved not to lose myself simply determining whether or not something was even there--in time, I would find out for myself.

Closer still, but not there yet, I saw they were old and weathered, left behind by those who knew them best, and abandoned by those who knew them not. Excellent, I thought. The sun was higher in the morning sky, but even with better visibility, the buildings seemed to slip away. I dared not wander too far off track. Despite the inevitable obstacles, something inside me was insisting: until I reach them, I should never let them out of sight. I wondered what relics, treasures, or secrets they might reveal, but let's face it, I'd been in similar structures before, and although their history may be plentiful, any clues to their mysteries were typically lost to those who had come before, absconding with anything that might have disclosed the buildings' purposes or worth. Nonetheless, whenever we happen upon one, do we not always go inside?

I came to the first building--the largest of the three. There's something magical about places such as these. Eyes closed... you can smell the history. Well-worn floors, with every creak, echo footsteps tread lifetimes ago. Thin vines had invaded, seeking something better inside, eventually taking their place among the other beings that had found a fine place to die. Not a bit of furniture or furnishings inside, as predicted.

The roof of the second building had partially collapsed. It was treacherous to walk atop the fallen lumber, so I skipped whatever treasures may have lain beneath and went on toward the third, but I didn't go inside because something caught my eye. The army of trees that had shaped the horizon was now before me, and as I'd guessed, they marked a stream running through the gentle hills with their out-of-place boulders strewn about haphazardly--a geological wonder that surely perplexed generations before the power of volcanoes was clearly understood. Among the trees, closer to the stream, I saw something also out-of-place. It looked like a street lamp--a sturdy base, tall, slender pole, and... the top was obscured by low-hanging branches. I thought to revisit it after I'd investigated the third building, but with things around here disappearing in the blink of an eye, I made a bee-line for it while I had it in view.

Not a street lamp, but a signpost, revealed itself among the trees--remarkably antique and weathered. An ancient post held ancient wooden flags pointing to ancient destinations. Some had fallen off and lay deteriorated at my feet. Looking up, I tried to read the words carved into the flags, but time had rendered all but one of them illegible. Apparently, the town of Salvation was somewhere to the east. Interestingly, every town along the way seemed to lie eastward, as if I were standing at the farthest western location on a trail of ancient ghost towns invisible to anyone who wasn't already on the road; as if from this place, every location, attached or fallen from the signpost, were simply... on the way to the next. This is perfect! A quest had begun to take form in my mind--seeking out the fate of those who lived among the structures before their being abandoned by their posterity. I hadn't any notion of distance, nor destination, but there was no question which direction to go and... isn't the journey into the unknown kind of what this whole thing is all about? I could see the title: On the Road to Salvation.

Heading east; my adventure had officially begun. If only I'd thought to look at the flags in the same way I'd looked at the buildings earlier--they'd been as clear as day, but I'd hastily set out. Just a slight glance, with the proper tilt, I would have read the names. I would have been prepared, at least mentally, for what stops along my journey lay ahead.

Meandering alongside the stream, the path kept my mind from wandering. I wondered if its novelty would ever wear off if one opted to stay. A good outdoorsman could certainly live comfortably in such a place--building materials, fresh water, I'd even stopped to collect a few wild gooseberries along the way. I walked for hours--all day, in fact. As dusk approached, shelter became my priority. Warm, dry weather meant a simple lean-to would suffice. Among plentiful trees and thick foliage, I bent down to grab another stick and noticed a human footprint in the soft dirt--a bare foot.

My thoughts were everywhere, developing plausible reasons that someone might be traveling the same paths as I, but... barefoot? I might have gone on for quite a while if not for the rustling of branches to my left. I sharpened my eyes on the depths of trees and undergrowth, then another rustling behind me. I spun 'round to see the same nothing as before.

"Hello?" I called out, hoping for a response. None came, but no more rustling either. I might have dismissed it as an animal--perhaps a rabbit--but for the footprint. It was small enough. I admit, I was probably less concerned than if it had been a full-size foot. Nonetheless, I had a shelter to construct and clearly, if it was a human watching me, there was no desire to make my acquaintance.

Once my simple structure was complete, I set to gather more downed bits for my campfire, once again considering the tale of Prometheus stealing fire from the gods to share with man. Whatever had spooked me earlier hadn't stuck around. I'd been theorizing how old the footprint might have been, figuring for rainfall and such. I won't say it was at the back of my mind, but it definitely wasn't at the front. I'd seen a nice log for burning while I was scrounging for materials earlier, and I was on the hunt for it again. Sans Ariadne's thread, one has to be mindful of landmarks when traipsing through wooded areas... and labyrinths. I found the log I'd been looking for, and noticed the stump from which it had broken still standing a full meter or so tall at the break. Lightning, I suspected, had been its demise. The upper edges were charred black in contrast to the red hair hiding, poorly, behind it.

I kept a peripheral eye on the hair as I continued to collect pieces of wood for my campfire-to-be. Purposely delaying the gathering, waiting to get a glimpse of the watcher, I had my suspicions. I'll admit, I was excited. I'd read about it, but could it be? Depleted of patience, and unnerved by the unknown, I opted to abandon my bundle, there on the ground, and walk directly to the tuft of hair to confront whatever mysteriously shy guest existed underneath it. I walked right up to the charred stump and looked down over top of it.

It was a girl--asleep against the stump, and more importantly, naked as the day she was born. Embarrassed for her, I stepped back to give her space. At her sight, I lost myself--as if everything I knew of this place suddenly washed away and stood there, stupid. What in the world was she doing out in the woods, butt-naked, and sleeping out in the open? I had no clue what to do. I couldn't just leave her, but what's the proper etiquette for these circumstances?

I decided to forego the lean-to and get a fire going right there. If she awoke to find a warm fire, perhaps she'd be inclined to stick around, and it might keep the predators from making a meal of her in the night. A thin, flannel coat was all I had to offer her. I hung it on the side of the stump where she could easily find it, then settled in for a few gooseberries and a crackling fireside nap.

By the time I woke up, the flames had become embers. It was night. When I realized where I was, I jerked up and looked toward the stump. The flannel coat was gone. Flagrant rustling in the trees behind me--I wheeled around, still groggy, but agile enough to get onto one knee. More rustling to my left... and more in front of me--scurrying around an invisible perimeter. Whatever they were had clearly scared away the watcher. I heard something charging closer. Still I saw nothing but darkness. I instinctively tumbled backward, over and through the coals, sending sparks from embers soaring like spirits freed from the fire. The eyes. They revealed the wolf before its form--glowing a blue-grey through bright orange sparks. I grabbed a small stick with a glowing tip--a sad weapon, but better than nothing. A chorus of growls from an anxious pack followed the alpha's lead. I could smell them. More blue-grey orbs flanked the leader.

"Morach! Nya!" a stern, woman's voice called, "Nya peyta!"

The wolves stopped--their eyes turned to my right. Scampering to my feet, I firmly held the flimsy, smoldering stick because it was the only thing that still made sense. The voice belonged to another woman--also long red hair--also naked, head to toe.

"They will not harm you," she said confidently as four more young women emerged from the woods, "and neither will we."

Every hair on my body was raised. None of it seemed like it could possibly be real. Adrenaline coursed through me like lightning. Her eyes glanced down at the feeble stick I held. I dropped it into the fire as if were pure evil. A weapon, even as futile as a charred stick, seemed an abomination in their presence. But the wolves... they obeyed this woman before their own primal hunger. I thought, I must be dreaming... or dead.

"What is this? Who are you?" I demanded.

"I am Taenope. You have come into the Nesh seeking fortune?"

"No, I'm not seeking anything, really. The wolves obey you. How?"

"They do not obey me, they simply understand me, as I understand them."

"Okay... I'm not sure what that means, but thank you for stopping them. They would have torn me apart... though not without a fight."

"You are no more their enemy than the fallen tree is yours--it is a means to survival."

"Okay, I guess I understand that. What are you doing out here... all of you?"

"We live here. This is our home. What are you doing here?"

"I was heading to a town... though I'm not sure it still exists."

"Thessyna will show you the way if you wish."

"Thessyna?"

"My daughter... you presented her with a gift without knowing her name. For this act of selflessness, it is our tradition that she must do for you whatever you ask."

I felt a warm presence, like a heat lamp, behind me. I turned to see the girl--she was the one who was sleeping before--wearing my flannel coat as she approached humbly. I was stricken by her beauty, I won't lie, but she was so out of place. She looked familiar, like a young woman I'd seen outside the hotel where I'd stayed before the journey began, though her hair was much longer and red. I turned back slowly, saying, "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not in need of..."

The woman was gone, as were the others. Thessyna was the only one remaining. I spun around to try to catch a glimpse of their retreat, but there was nothing--nothing at all. I turned back to the girl. She walked to me without hesitation. The warmth she emanated could not be explained by any logic, or even hypothesized by pure conjecture--it was magical if it was anything.

"Thessyna," I said calmly.

"And may I know your name?" she asked.

"Graeson Reid," I said, caught in her eyes like a snare, "How old are you?" I asked.

"I don't know. You're a human?"

"What? Yes, I'm a human. What do you mean, you 'don't know'?"

"We don't really keep track of things like that."

I rubbed my temples in mild frustration.

"Please... let me," she said, reaching for my head with both hands.

The sensation of her touch was as inexplicable as the radiating warmth of her approach. Her fingers were medicine--healing pains I didn't even realize I had. My eyes closed in complete relaxation, my shoulders sagged at my sides, my hands tingled with energy unknown to them. My eyes fluttered open as I let the old breath out of new lungs. Her eyes were soft and clear, lips parted as if begging for contact. I blinked away the notion. She was young and beautiful, but too young... and too beautiful, as I suspected. I gently took her wrists and brought them down to her sides. The blissful moment was over.

"What... what did she mean by, your tradition?"

"It is a rare thing--a traveler giving something valuable to a perfect stranger. The gesture requires repayment."

"But to commit to doing whatever someone asks... that seems... potentially dangerous."

"Luckily, it doesn't happen very often," she giggled, "and those who give out of goodness rarely ask out of malice."

"You sure don't talk like a young girl. May I ask... how old are you?"

She ignored the question, "Come on," she said as she began to walk away.

"Where? Where are we going?" I asked, following along almost involuntarily.

"The tradition states I must do whatever you want."

"Yes, I understand that, but where are you taking me?" I asked.

Looking over her shoulder at me, she replied coyly, "I'm going to show you what you want."

Well, my journey certainly took an unexpected turn. I didn't know where she was leading, but I was surely following. Dark forest--moonlight managed to break through on occasion, casting light upon the twisting Contorted Beech trees--aptly named--gnarled limbs, arms and fingers caught in the throes of anguish, knots freezing faces of horror forever in sylvan screams. They spoke to me... flooded me with terrific tales, warning me of ancient truths. Thessyna took my hand, breaking the hypnotic snare I'd tripped beneath the boughs. A good thing, too--a bizarre feeling of dread and... pity had crept in. I felt as if I could have stayed beneath the branches of one particular Beech, simply staring at its stems until death came to relieve me--and for my sake, that's exactly what it wanted.

"Just through here," she said, pushing away the sullen branches of the last Contorted Beech.

Words can hardly describe the utopian landscape beyond the trees. Another stream flowed from a small, clear pond, boulders of all sizes helping to guide its path. A grassy clearing began to become visible with rays of morning sunlight peering through the taller oaks.

Thessyna led me to a large, flat boulder, crawling onto it, lying down, facing me. She threw her arms over her head, my coat flaying out beneath her. "Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"

I found it nearly impossible to take my eyes off of her, "Yes, I think that's a fair statement."

"Are you cold?"

It was a leading question. I couldn't help but think, though... I should be cold. "Actually, no," I said, thinking myself in full command, yet playing perfectly into her plan.

She raised a hand toward me. I couldn't tell if I was being pulled forward or being pushed from behind. I felt myself drawn closer. I took her hand and felt the intense medicating warmth again as she sat up, looking up at me. I felt ensnared by her, like any semblance of self-control was swept away by currents under her control. Her expression turned to excitement--she could feel me giving in. Her eyes grew larger, her mouth wanton. She threw herself back again, teasing me, teasing herself, heaving in seduction, "Don't you wish you could stay with me here forever?"

My heart nearly beat right out of my chest, "This is happening," I thought. "It's your tradition," I remembered.

"Tradition," she repeated sensuously.

"You have to do... whatever I want," I recalled.

She looked deeply, seductively, into my eyes, "Anything."

I matched her gaze, "I want you..."

"Yesss..."

"I want you to release the souls of the men trapped in the Nash Forest trees."

"No!" Her eyes turned to fear.

I raised my voice, "I want you to relinquish them from their prisons."

"No! You mustn't!"

I roared--that the trees themselves would relish in my demands, "I want you to free their souls and let them find their way to wherever they belong!"

Gusts and torrents crashed through the trees. Paradise became a whirlwind, swirling with whisking leaves. Heavy mists hit like horizontal rain, harvested from the stream.

"No!" she cried, "No! Not my beautiful trees!"

I shouted above the gale force winds as she writhed on the massive stone--I recalled, perfectly, their lore--words came like providence to my voice, "By the sacred tradition of the Dryads, I command your compliance! For your wicked seduction and trickery, I demand the release of all your victims' souls! I want their captivity ended! I want their freedom restored! I want their pathways unimpeded! I want your sylvan prisons barren!"

From the howling forest, moans and cries of men in anguish grew even beyond the torrents. Branches on Beeches became fluid on the wind. Trapped souls of hapless travelers, wanderers, and thieves began to emerge from the Beeches and take their places among their long-lost fathers, and in seconds...

... they were gone.

Thessyna lay helpless on the stone before me, her face hidden--beautiful and cruel.

"And lastly," I said, as the winds finally calmed, "I want my coat back."

She laid there, bested--a thousand years of seduction, sorcery, and treachery--undone in a single wish. Her hair was destroyed, garnished with grass and bits of dried leaves. Tears sullied what was, moments ago, sublime.

She squeaked pitifully, "You took them from me."

I gave her my hand. What is broken must always be rebuilt. "Stand, Thessyna. Come, I recognized your charm the moment I saw you. How could anyone not feel it to the depths of their bones? The unmatched beauty of the Dryad Nymphs is legendary throughout the world, and the care you take in overseeing the forests is as crucial as the forest itself. These trophies of men--of prisoners taken--you've lost nothing that was yours to keep. And be honest, is it so great an achievement, ensnaring with such irresistible allure, the love and lust of lonely men? Accomplish the feat as a rotund, weathered sea hag, and there a truly deserved trophy you'll have."

She cracked a smile beneath her defeat.

I continued, "Play your game of cat and mouse if you must, but send your mouse on his way when he's beaten. Look there... you don't need them. You never did. Isn't the forest even more beautiful now, without the reminders of how simple simple men can be?"

"Perhaps... it is," she managed, "But how will I remember them?"

"Perhaps you won't," I said sharply, "But isn't it vastly more important that they, instead, remember you? Truly, if I were to drink the gods' ambrosia and live to the end of days, I assure you, I would not require a reminder--some trinket--to remember this time with you. You have no idea how close I came to becoming your next backwoods Beech."

She smiled at that, "And I will remember you, for the forest is forever changed. I don't know what I will do if you say you won't stay--they're words I've not heard before."

She was still playing her game. "Let's try it and see what happens," I said, "There's a fair chance we'll still be the same. I sincerely hope you don't melt... or blow away. I'd love to learn more of your family's lore--how the forests came under your care. Be honest, though--if I am no different from any other traveler in the woods, and it doesn't matter who fills these shoes, then don't ask me to stay with you. It won't make a difference how I answer if it doesn't matter who I am."

She backed away and turned aside, biting her lip as she considered my words.

"Okay," she said in certainty, perhaps honest with a man for the first time in... ever. Stepping closer--not seductively or slyly--but cautiously and in earnest, "Will you stay with me here forever, Graeson Reid?" a desperate tear in her eye.

I smiled and took her hand, "Lovely Thessyna," I began, "Despite your beauty, playful and pure, despite temptation's promising allure... because of your sincerity, I can assure, you've never been more attractive than you are, in this moment, in all your life. I cannot stay with you here forever, but with your permission, I would be honored and grateful if I could stay with you this day."

She stood perplexed... torn. A kind of confidence accompanied this unprecedented rejection, "You said... no."

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know. I feel... something. I feel..."

"Three-dimensional?"

"Yes. That... that describes it perfectly. With each encounter, men and women both, have looked at me from top to bottom and side-to-side, but never considered to look within... though, to be honest, I never really looked, myself. I do feel three-dimensional," she agreed, "and terrible."

"Terrible?"

"Yes, terrible. I feel terrible for those men... I didn't care about them at all. I still don't care about them, to be honest, but I should have..." she held her head low, "I should not have done that to them."

"Or tried to add me to your collection."

We spoke for hours as the sun made its way overhead. I helped her understand her newfound capacity for shame and remorse, and that they made her infinitely better--more complete. She told me amazing stories about the nymphs; one I found particularly fascinating, regarding forest fires--how the Dryads help guide the animals around the smoke and flames, how they nurture new growth after they've been extinguished, and how they unite to keep the flames from ever destroying their sacred groves.

Among their many routines, they make a point of studying languages by cleverly intermingling with nudists of different cultures. Thessyna has studied eleven contemporary languages and fourteen forgotten ones.

Being intimately familiar with the forest, she showed me which plants are safe for humans to eat regardless of taste--some requiring cooking, others which can be consumed raw. I learned how to harvest pine nuts and the best way to prepare termites, grasshoppers, and grubs. She taught me which parts of a stream are safe to drink from to avoid pathogens (a word she did not know).

"I think you just made that word up," she said playfully.

"Only if I'm not saying it right."

"Path-o-gens," she repeated.

"Exactly. Tiny little bugs and microorganisms that can make you sick."

"That's not at all why I thought we drank from these parts of the streams."

"Well, now you know," I said, as I skipped a stone across the water.

"How did you do that?!"

"Do what?"

"The stone! It just jumped off the water! Do it again!"

"You've lived here, in this place, for years and years and you're telling me you've never skipped a stone? No wonder there are so many perfect skipping stones lying around. Here, let me show you."

I picked up another stone and really put some heat on it. It skipped eight times before submitting to the water's grip.

She stood, mouth agape, slowly turning into a smile, "You're a sorcerer! That's how you were able to defy me! You used magic!"

"It's not magic, love, it's physics," I explained, smiling away my laughter, "Anyone can do it."

Having studied my second toss, Thessyna selected a rock and prepared for her first attempt.

"Hold on a minute, that's not going to work." She'd chosen a lovely stone--nearly black throughout with two white lightning strikes through it--but the shape was all wrong, like an egg. I put it in my pocket to break her concentration from it. "I'll hold onto this one. You need to look for a flat rock... like this one. You're going to hold it with your forefinger along its edge, then you'll flick your wrist, throwing it side-arm, like this. If the stone hits calm water on its flat bottom, it'll bounce off the water's surface."

"I can do that," she insisted.

"Of course you can."

She lined herself up with the water's edge, inched closer, turned a bit more sideways... she gave a practice swing, concentrating on her wrist-flicking... and she let it rip! What a beauty of a toss! It skipped an easy five times. She jumped with laughter and amazement. Now, if you've never seen a naked nymph jump for joy, I can tell you, it's... difficult to maintain eye contact.

"Did you see that?!"

"Ah... yes, yes I did."

"You have a rock in your pocket!"

My breath caught, my eyes stretched wide, "Uhh... yes! Yes I do!" I pulled the black egg out of my pocket, "Look at that rock! Isn't it something? We should look at this together for a minute."

She took the egg and admired it, tracing the streaks of white with her fingertips. Positioning herself in the sun, she held it in front of her bosom. "Look how the sunlight shines on them."

"This really isn't helping. Maybe we should..."

She turned and zipped the rock into the water. Not a single skip, just plunk... and gone.

"Come on!" she insisted, "Come swim with me."

"Are you nuts? The water's way too cold," I said. Then again, maybe that's a good thing.

I sat down and unlaced my boots, pulled off my socks, and wet my feet in the water. I was right about the water being cold and... about the other thing, too.

"Here, hold onto me."

I took her hand. Once again, the incredible warmth shot through me like electricity. Standing in the stream, I was immune to the water's chill. Each time I broke contact with her, the same electricity turned to an icy shock until I touched her again. It wasn't an unbearable cold at my feet, but the warmth provided by her touch was certainly preferred.

I had to admit, her constant state of total nudity made my shyness seem... childish. "Fine, I'll join you for a swim."

She knew the water well--where the shoal was too shallow, and where it was deep enough to dive. A quick dip salvaged her wrecked hair. She swam back to the shallow rim and stood again on the river rocks, the water just above her knees. Sunlight rode the water rolling down her form. It was easy to see why so many Beeches lined the clearing. Being with Thessyna unclothed--I won't say it was perfectly comfortable--I will say it was un-uncomfortable. I forced my way through the frigid shallows and joined her in the deep. We remained in contact, and had a hot swim in a cool pond on a warm day.

She looked at me with devilish eyes, "You wanna see something amazing?"

"I'm already there."

She sank below the surface and was gone half a minute. The cold was actually refreshing after her contact at length. When she re-emerged, she wore an even more devilish grin.

"What?" I asked.

She lifted her hand from the water and revealed... she had found the black egg stone.

"You're kidding me! You found that stone in all this water?"

"No," she said, "In all the oceans and all the seas, in all the land and lakes and rivers and streams, in the entire world," she held it against my chest, "I found this stone... in this water."

Good thing she didn't ask me again if I wished I could stay there forever, or I may not be here to tell this tale today.

Perhaps the least important, yet one of the most memorable experiences was when we walked onto land again. Her ability to generate heat caused her hair to dry in seconds. Touching my arm, the same heat dried my entire body almost instantly. I ran my fingers through my hair just to revel in the sheer oddity of it. She giggled--to her it was nothing, but to me, it was nothing short of magic.

"Would you prefer a towel?" she asked with a coy grin.

"No, actually. I just... didn't expect it."

Just then, I caught movement in the taller grass nearby.

"Look, there... something moving." I instinctively put myself in front of Thessyna and readied myself for butt-naked battle. In a moment I realized that, whatever it was, she could probably whistle to it and make it do tricks. My arms went limp and I hung my head in embarrassment. I stepped aside. "A friend of yours?"

She just smiled and walked toward the lurker, "Meesha, is that you?" she asked.

The great wolf lunged from the tall grass into the clearing. Thessyna dropped to her knees and raised her arms like a child ready to embrace a huge loyal dog, which she did. She turned her head to me. With a look, she extended an arm, inviting me to come near. The wolf gave me a look also... one that suggested I might think twice about accepting the invitation, which I did.

"You mustn't show fear. Come. Meesha, this is Graeson Reid, our friend. Dralpa, Graeson Reid. Dralpa, Meesha."

I stepped to them despite the wolf's warning, and extended a hand for the ceremonial sniffing. Sufficiently sniffed, I offered a scratch of the ear. It was over. The great wolf became a Labrador and collapsed at our knees for a more thorough scratch-fest.

"Dralpa means friend?" I asked.

"Mmm... not exactly. It's similar but, you can't just say you're somebody's friend and they just accept it. Dralpa is more like... you're on the same team. Friendship requires more than an introduction."

I used both hands to scratch Meesha's neck and belly. "What do I need to do to become friends?"

"Exactly what you're doing now. Meesha loves to have his belly scratched, don't you?"

If not for all of the other exotic and miraculous events of the past few hours, this moment would have been a crowning moment in my life--to share the trust of such a magnificent and dangerous predator--lying on his back, paws curled and relaxed, emitting a low, growling, blissful tone, tongue lolling out one side of his mouth.

"Meesha came to us as a puppy. We don't know what happened to his mother, but the pack wouldn't care for him as they normally do orphaned pups. He's been a friend to us for many seasons... years, I mean. He's a great hunter."

"I bet he's a great tracker, too."

"The best! My sisters used to hide when he was just a puppy, and I would tell him, 'Grick Naya,' and he would find her. 'Grick Shalesh,' and he would go directly to her."

With the words, Meesha would perk up to see if she was asking for his help, but he sensed the lack of urgency in her voice and resumed spa treatment posture.

"So grick means to go get something."

"Very similar, really. If you said 'Grick-nal,' you would be asking to him to go get something for you. Grick just means you need help finding something."

"I can't believe I'm learning to talk to wolves."

"Not all wolves, of course," she said, "just the ones here in the Nesh--those who we've taught."

"Of course..."

Suddenly, Meesha rolled and sprang to his feet, knocking us onto our keisters. His ears perked and nose lifted to the air.

"I guess he's had enough," I mused.

"No, listen," she said, holding up a hand.

We stayed still and silent, watching him. He began to prance toward the tall grass sniffing the wind. Faintly, I heard a distant howl. Meesha turned and squealed. Another voice in the distance. Meesha whimpered and sat, raising his chin. He opened his mouth as if to join in the chorus but only muttered a few disappointed groans.

"Doesn't he know how to howl?" I asked.

"Of course he does."

"It seems like he wants to, but he doesn't."

"Meesha doesn't just want to howl; he wants to belong to the pack."

"Oh. He is truly a lone wolf," I surmised.

"There's something about him. We tried introducing him to the pack, but they shun him for some reason. It may be why he was orphaned. Maybe he was abandoned. We don't know."

We watched him listening to the others. After a minute, the song was over. Meesha wandered off without so much as a glance back at us, almost as if to do so would erase what was left of his pride. I felt that stupid thing in my throat. As he disappeared into the trees, I realized Thessyna was gripping my hand. She felt bad--empathetic toward his loneliness. I felt it in her touch.

"There is something special about him, isn't there?"

Hours passed too quickly. We simply spent them... together. The evening grew cold as the sun dipped behind the western sky. We'd eaten so many wild fruits, nuts, and roots that I never even considered being hungry. The long day, however, took its toll. Eventually, we fell asleep.

Morning came too soon. We were up before dawn. There were a few more things she wanted to show me before I left. I believed, perhaps through mere arrogance, she hoped I'd stay.

"I never had to watch the men age," she said, "It wouldn't be fair for you to stay. Take this."

"I told you, I don't need a trinket to remember you."

"It's not a trinket. Take it." She tossed it to me, forcing me to catch it. "I've imbued it with the power to generate warmth. Keep it with you, and you will always feel my warmth," she said, shedding a tear.

"This is an amazing gift, Thessyna. A part of you."

"It's nothing compared to what you've given me. Besides, we prefer that you don't start fires anyway. Remember the rock tower... "

Something she'd said earlier, "... you must turn right to see what's left. I remember."

We shared our last moment together at the water's edge, with the morning sun rising, cutting again through the tall oak trees. She hugged me tightly and shed another single tear. With her arms around me, she looked into my eyes, parting her lips. Her slender calves lifted her upward as my attention turned to the great wolf bounding again from the tall grass. Great timing, Meesha. His tail wagged exuberantly as he rushed to join our sentimental farewell. Just as her lips touched mine, Meesha's giant paws pushed Thessyna's shoulders into mine, toppling all three of us down to the water behind me.

I felt the water splash in my face, my back finding the ground. "Hey! Buddy! Wake up!"

I blinked and slapped the water from my eyes. "Thessyna?" I looked side to side, "Meesha?"

"Oh, great. Hey, do you speak any English?" the woman asked me, leaning directly over me with a hatchet in one hand, "Parlet... le English?"

Confused and annoyed, I answered, "Yes, I speak English. What..." I pawed again at my eyes. She looked just like Thessyna, but... it wasn't Thessyna. Her hair was short and blonde. She was fully clothed and harsh. Her voice was firm and rough.

"Sorry about the water--you weren't responding. You'd better get your marbles packed up. There are wolves in these hills. You're lucky I found you. Hell, you're lucky you made it through the night."

I looked side to side. The little campfire I'd lit--it was there beside me. The fallen tree, the charred stump... and there it was... my flannel coat. It was all there.

She kicked at something beside me on the ground, "Been eating gooseberries, eh? It's too early in the season--they'll keep you from starving to death, but don't eat too many or you'll be in for a helluva night. What's a meesha?"

"It's a... he's a wolf..."

"A wolf? Meesha? Too many gooseberries, buddy. Do I want to ask about Thessyna?"

I shook it off, "I'm sorry, you caught me coming out of a dream. You just... you bear a remarkable resemblance to an old friend of mine."

Her eyebrows raised as she nodded a half smile, "You're off to a great start, Jack. I look like some old lady? Usually people say I look young for my age."

"I'm sorry, that's not what I meant... I meant..."

"Save it. It's Nicole," she said as she began walking away, "What's yours?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Reid, Graeson Reid."

"Graeson. Graeson, you said?" She turned to face me.

"Yeah."

"Do me a favor, Graeson, put some clothes on."

Sweet mother-of-pearl! I was naked as a newborn! I scrambled for my clothes, off balance and embarrassed. She never took her eyes off me. She just reveled in my awkwardness. Eventually I got myself dressed again, and walked over to the flannel coat. I lifted my eyes to the trees behind it, where we'd... where I'd... it didn't matter. I grabbed the coat from the stump and pulled it on.

I could hardly lift my head as I walked toward her. I finally pieced together, she was the young woman I'd seen at the hotel before. I looked up--there was no use in pretending.

"Well, thank you for the rescue. I won't hold you up any longer."

"Yeah," she replied simply.

"Are you heading back to town?"

"Yup. You?"

"No, I'm headed east."

"How long have you been out here?" she asked.

"Since yesterday morning. You?"

"Since the night before. What's east of here?"

"I don't actually know. I do a travel blog..." I said--she clearly was not impressed, "and I guess I'm just looking for something worth writing about."

"Well, I hope you find something before you die. Technically, you survived twenty-four hours on your own, so you're doing better than most already. I've been part of four search and rescues since I came here, but you're the first person I've found... alive anyway."

"So... I'm sorry, I forgot your name..."

"Nicole."

"Nicole, right. You know these woods pretty well?" I asked.

"I wouldn't say that. I just know how to survive in them."

"That's awesome. I'm a survivalist as well, but I know enough to admit when I'm in over my head. Would you be interested in joining forces maybe... two more days? I can pay you."

"Not a chance, Jack. I know when to admit it, too. I'll tell you one thing for free though... you need to lace up your boots."

It wasn't the answer I was hoping for, but she wasn't the type to be easily convinced. I took her advice, lacing my boots. I straightened up to wish her well. She was frozen in a stare. Three wolves had come out of the trees and stopped short only because they realized I was there. A lone hiker was an easy target for the pack, but the two of us were a different matter. Two more wolves came out, tipping the scales back into their favor. I hurried to her side. I had to try it, "Morach! Nya Peyta!"

Nothing. Two of them moved outward, flanking us as the leader held his ground next to the others. Nicole raised her hatchet and steadied herself, keeping an eye on the one circling to her right. The leader's head turned toward the same side. I heard scurrying and a vicious growl, then the tale-tale yipes of a scared dog. The flanking wolf was in full retreat. Another massive wolf was in pursuit. Instinctively, I searched for any sort of weapon to join the fight. I found something in my coat pocket--a rock--perfect size for throwing, too. A quick glance wasn't enough. I had to look again. The black egg! I felt its warmth... her warmth!

"Meesha!" I cried as he turned and took a position in front of us.

At the name, the other wolves turned and quickly disappeared into the trees. Meesha's terrible growls and barks echoed in the hills.

"It's okay, boy, they're gone," I said, placing a hand on his back.

He turned and snarled at Nicole.

"It's okay, Meesha, this is Nicole. Dralpa, Meesha. Dralpa, Nicole." I looked at her, "Come, don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid... I'm friggin' terrified."

"Yeah, I was too."

Although reluctantly, she came close enough to begin the ceremonial sniffing.

"A friend of yours, huh?"

"No," I said. "We're just on the same team."

Wolf-petting continued for a few minutes, as it should. I felt better having Meesha there. "I guess we should get going."

Nicole looked west... then, "Just two more days, huh? $500, what do you say?"

"No, I should be good," I said, petting Meesha beside me.

She sighed, "Fine. I'll go with you."

"What were you doing out here, anyway?" I asked.

"Apparently nothing... I was hoping to get some pictures of a certain kind of tree that's supposed to be found in this area. Maybe you've seen one. It's called a Contorted Beech."

It was a girl--asleep against the stump, and more importantly, naked as the day she was born. Embarrassed as much for myself as for her, I stepped back to give her space. What in the world was she doing out in the woods, butt-naked, and sleeping out in the open? I didn't have a clue what to do. I couldn't just leave her, but what's the proper etiquette for this circumstance?

I decided to forego the lean-to and get a fire going right where I'd left the kindling and logs. If she awoke to find a warm fire, perhaps she'd be inclined to stick around, if at a distance, and it might keep the predators from making a meal of her in the night. A thin, flannel coat was all I had to offer her. I hung it on the side of the stump where she could easily find it, then settled in for a few gooseberries and a crackling fireside nap.

By the time I woke up, the flames had died down to embers. It was night. When I realized where I was, I jerked up and looked toward the stump. The flannel coat was gone. Flagrant rustling in the trees behind me--I wheeled around, still groggy but agile enough to get onto one knee. More rustling to my left... and more in front of me--deliberately scurrying around an invisible perimeter. Whatever they were, I hoped they had frightened away the sleeping watcher to a safer place. I heard something charging at me. Still I saw nothing but darkness. Instinctively, I tumbled backward, over and through the coals, sending sparks from embers soaring like spirits freed from the fire. Then the eyes. They revealed the wolf before its form. They glowed a heavy blue-grey through the bright orange sparks. I grabbed the end of a small stick with a glowing tip--a sad weapon, but better than nothing... maybe. A chorus of growls from an anxious pack followed the alpha's lead. More blue-grey orbs flanked the leader. Clenching my fists, I prepared for for the fight.

"Morach! Nya!" a stern, woman's voice called, "Nya kuta!"

The wolves stopped--their eyes turned to my right. Scampering to my feet, I held firmly to the flimsy, smoldering stick because it was the only thing that still made sense. The voice belonged to another woman--also long red hair--also naked, head to toe.

"They will not harm you," she said confidently as four more young women emerged from the woods near her, "and neither will we."

Every hair on my body was raised. None of it seemed like it could possibly be real.

Adrenaline coursed through me like lightning. Her eyes glanced down at the feeble stick I held. I dropped it into the fire as if were pure evil. A weapon, even as futile as a charred stick, seemed an abomination in their presence. But the wolves... they obeyed this woman before their own primal hunger. I thought... I must be dreaming... or dead.

"What is this? Who are you?" I demanded.

"I am Taenope. You have come into the Nesh seeking fortune?"

"No, I'm not seeking anything, really. The wolves obey you. How?"

"They do not obey me, they simply understand me, as I understand them."

"Okay... I'm not sure what that means, but thank you for stopping them. They would have torn me apart... though not without a fight," I assured her... or perhaps just myself.

"You are no more their enemy than the fallen tree is yours--it is a means to your survival."

"Okay, I guess I understand that. What are you doing out here... all of you?"

"We live here. This is our home. What are you doing here?"

"I was heading to a town... though I'm not sure it still exists."

"Thessyna will show you the way."

"Thessyna?"

"My daughter... you presented her with a gift without knowing her name. For this act of selflessness, it is our tradition that she must do for you whatever you ask."

I felt a warm presence, like a heat lamp, behind me. I turned to see the girl--the one who had been sleeping--wearing my flannel coat as she approached humbly. I was stricken by her beauty, I won't lie, but she was so out of place. I turned back slowly, saying, "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not in need of..."

They were gone--the wolves, the woman, and all of the others--gone. Thessyna was the only one remaining. I spun around to try to catch a glimpse of their retreat into the trees, but there was nothing--nothing at all--no sound, no movement, just darkness. I turned back to the girl walking toward me, utterly devoid of apprehension. The warmth she emanated could not be explained by any logic, or even hypothesized by pure conjecture--it was... magical if it was anything.

"Thessyna," I said calmly, grateful that my throat still held its voice.

"And may I know your name?" she asked.

"Graeson Reid," I said, caught in her eyes like a snare, "How old are you?" I asked.

"I don't know. You're a human, Graeson Reid?"

"What? Yes, I'm a human. What do you mean, you 'don't know' how old you are?"

"We don't keep track of things like that."

I rubbed my temples in mild frustration.

"Please... let me," she said, reaching for my head with both hands.

The sensation of her touch was as inexplicable as the radiating warmth of her approach. Her fingers were medicine--healing pains I didn't even realize I had. My eyelids collapsed in absolute relaxation, my shoulders sagged at my sides, hands tingling with energies unknown to them. My eyes fluttered open as I let old breath out of new lungs. Her eyes were soft and clear, lips parted as if begging for contact. I blinked away the notion. She was young and beautiful, but too young... and too beautiful. I gently took her wrists and brought them down to her sides. The blissful moment was over.

"What... what did your mother mean by, your tradition?"

"It is a rare thing--a traveler giving something valuable to a perfect stranger. The gesture requires repayment."

"But, to commit to doing whatever someone asks... that seems like it could be dangerous."

"Luckily, it doesn't happen very often," she giggled, "and those who give out of goodness rarely ask out of malice."

"You sure don't talk like a young girl. May I ask... how old are you?"

She ignored the question, "Come on," she said as she began to walk away.

"Where? Where are we going?" I asked, following obediently--almost involuntarily.

"The tradition states I must do whatever you want..."

"Yes, I understand that, but where are you taking me?" I asked.

Looking over her shoulder at me, she replied with a coyly, "I'm going to show you what you want."

Good luck, Mate. You're wasting your time trying to get a rise out of Bingham... he's in la-la land. The poor wanker--three spliffs of catnip and clover and you can toss a pat of butter on him 'cause he's basically a baked potato. Nah, if you want to achieve the impossible, you'll do better to ask Green, over there, anyway. Buy him a coffee--tall--if you want his attention. Green's a legend. A Frenchman asked him, once, to brew up a jig to allow his one-armed daughter to scale El Capitan in Yosemite. Two months later, she posted pics of herself at the top, blessing the skies at the feet of a double rainbow--it went viral. You'll need a certain degree of luck, and a lot of green to get him on your team. Trust me on the tall brew, though. Off you go then. Hey, give Bingham a pat on the shoulder for me--just a little jig--yeah. Hey! Bingham! Snap to it, man! It's the legend! Right now! The Great Rogue Potato Chip is lost in the pillows somewhere on the green sofa beside you! You have to find it before the sea turtles slide down the rainbow into an oblivion of red clover! And they're doing it without the Queen's blessing! Hurry, man! The turtles! Think about the turtles!

To you who put yourselves through the horror of reading any of my posts, first of all, I'm sorry. More importantly, if you see an error--grammatical, syntax, spelling, or otherwise--please make a note of it in the comments. Don't worry about typos. I'm talking about mistakes that are likely to be repeated, like when I say lay when it should be lie.

Since I was a wee puke, I've always been intrigued and motivated by my mistakes, but if no one ever points it out, I'll likely never learn. So please, have at it.

Proofreading is a mad skill, but that's not really what's needed here, unless it's something we're considering submitting for publishing. For instance, we all know the difference between there and their, but when you're in the thick of the fight, writing feverishly trying to fill water cups from a fire hydrant, sometimes the fingers just go their own way. How many times have you reread and thought, "Whaaaaat??" Just the other day I found Your instead of You're. Whaaaaat??

Most of the stuff we submit daily probably doesn't require proofreading--we get the point, and we all make mistakes. Irregardless, however--that's something that needs to be dealt with before it spreads. Why isn't irregardless being automatically underlined in red as a misspelled word? Is that a thing now? Dammit!

I'm just saying, you have my permission to point things out. I want to improve as a writer, and I know I don't know all the rules yet, so feel free to educate me when the opportunity arises.

If you leave a comment asking for the same treatment, who knows? Maybe we'll get good at this stuff.