Two friends walked through the forest. The one with eyes like a winter sky was called The Moth. The other had eyes like potting soil, and had yet to be referred to at all. Rays of light beamed through the canopy.

"Ahh, I've missed the sun," the Moth said.

"You're learning about the value of missing."

"Don't patronise me."

"But I am your patron."

"You're not. You're my friend."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"I'm still learning."

"Me too."

"Yes, about what it is like to miss."

The Moth's crystal eyes rolled, and ushered them into silence.

"Do you know where we are going next?" The dark eyed friend asked.

"No."

"Do you want to?"

"I don't think so."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure. I think it's presumptuous."

"How so?"

"Do you know where we're going?"

"Yes."

"I disagree."

"Explain."

"You know of somewhere that you want to be, but it isn't a place. You only know of a description or a memory or a photograph of somewhere."

"You can't visit any of those things."

"Exactly."

"Well I know the direction we are going in."

"I think you can know that."

"Would you like to know it, too?"

"Sure."

"None."

"Huh?"

"We are here."

They stopped and looked around, "the forest is nice," The Moth said.

"It is."

The one with eyes like ash sat on the forest floor. Silence followed for awhile then, and his friend joined him sitting.

"The night is approaching." The Moth spoke. His eyes looked particularly unnatural in the dusk.

"It will happen before then."

"What will?"

"Look to your right."

"Oh, there's a fox hiding."

A few feet away, a slender red fox slipped from the undergrowth and into full view.

"She is where we were going."

"She's where we were going?"

"It sounds odd. You will understand soon."

The Fox simply looked at them with golden eyes. They were almost as unnatural as those of The Moth.

"Hello Fox,"the one with obsidian eyes called out, "this is my friend Moth."

The Fox spoke then, her voice a song, "oh your companion found his name. You must have travelled far."

"We went to the end," the dark eyed friend replied.

"Does he know what it all means?" She inquired.

"How could he?"

"I see. You didn't start at the beginning, again. For someone intent on change you do repeat yourself mercilessly."

"It is not the same."

"How so?" She crooned.

"This time I am not alone."

"So you've come to begin again. How many times has it been now?"

"You know already."

"Have you told him?"

"No."

"Should I?"

"That is not a question I can answer, Fox."

The Fox then turned to the friend with eyes of glass, "Moth, do you know the purpose of your journey?"

"No."

"Would you like to?"

"You can't know it."

"You don't know what I don't know."

"You can't know this."

"Why?"

"Because, I haven't decided yet."

"You will find that is not the sort of detail that will keep me from knowing."

"Nevertheless."

"Very well."

"If you would like to answer a different question, I have one."

"I am here to answer your questions."

"Were you called The Fox first, or were you a fox first?"

"You worry about the implications of your new name?"

"I don't worry about them."

"Yet you want to know them?"

"Yes."

"It is not like that, Moth, for I am not a fox, I simply appeared to you as one. I am the forest, my name is The Fox."

"She is where we came to," The Moth muttered.

"You understand?" The dark eyed friend asked.

"Yes."

"And why did we come to her?"

"She is the beginning of the journey."

"There is a path?"

"No."

"What then?"

"There is a start, and there is an end. We must do the rest."

"Why is she the start?"

The Fox sang once again, "because I was the first to find the end."

"She is the one from which we are to learn there is a journey," the friend with black eyes offered, "without her blessing, we will wander like I found you."

"Do we have it?"

"If she is here, we have it."

"I see. I have one more question for you then, Fox, before we sleep and set out."

"And that is?"

"What is the name of my friend?"

"You haven't asked?"

"I haven't."

"He hasn't found one yet."