HOME | DD

Description
Stay True

In the distance you can hear it - violence. The guttural snarls, the clashing of bodies, the hisses and yelps of pain. It sounds like war, though the island has never known war before, you can’t be completely sure.

Still, you turn toward the noise, determined as you are to keep the peace and defend your home. You thought you knew this forest like the back of your paw, but suddenly it seems foreign. You see only three paths before you, carved through the trees.

To the left, it seems bright and clear - you can see into the distance, feel the warmth of the sun.

To the right, the forest follows a violent river, urgently carrying water to the north, splashing onto the rocks that line the way.

And in the center, darkness. You can see nothing.

A sudden howl of agony pierces the sky. You must choose a path quickly.

She stands at the crossroad, her legs trembling with anxiety. She can hear their cries and she knows she must go to them. She knows it is her duty to preserve peace, to guard tranquility. She must shield them from the evil that has been unleashed upon their home. One of these pathways will lead to them, she senses, but which route to take, she is unsure.

Panic begins to well inside the young Peacekeeper, and her inexperience is betrayed by the frantic beating of her heart. Calm, she soothes herself and tries to steel her emotions. There is no room for sentiment, she reminds herself. Her own emotions will only add to the cacophony and make it more difficult to discern the correct path from the false.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, finding that inner harmony she had been trained to procure. As a harrowing howl splits the sky, her eyes open once more; a decision has been made.

She rushes forward, a streak of light into the darkness.

You choose the darkest path.

As you race blindly through the forest, creatures watch you, unblinking eyes somewhere in the depths. You might glimpse them now and then - are they a figment of your imagination?

There seems to be no noise anymore. You wonder why the sounds have ended. Silence does not always mean there is peace. But this pathway you have chosen… it never seems to end. The darkness just goes on, and on, and on… but the eyes in the darkness… They begin to grow in number. The further you run, the more you see.

All of a sudden, light floods the earth, so bright that for a moment you have to close your eyes. When you open them once more, you are not alone in the forest, for perched on every branch as far as the eye can see…

Owls.

Anxiety causes her pelt to prickle, the feeling akin to sensing the electricity in the air in the midst of a thunderstorm. She thinks she is being watched, but cannot be certain. Her eyes divert from the path every so often to ensure that she is not being followed or observed from the foliage. Much to her growing discomfort, whenever she looks directly where she caught the glimpse of eyes, there is nothing to be found. She thinks that perhaps her mind is playing tricks on her…

The further she treads the dark path, the quieter her surroundings become. The sounds of battle fade into the black, as if the darkness is swallowing them. Does that mean the shadows are consuming her too? She decides not to think to deeply about it, instead carrying on through the dark.

Light, blinding and painful, cascades over her. Her golden pelt is bathed in its brilliance as if she is but a brand of sunlight. As her pale-green eyes flutter open, blinking frantically in an attempt to adjust to the luminance, strange shapes come into view. She recognizes them immediately. Owls. All are watching her through piercing, black gazes--gazes which appear to be unfathomably deep. For a moment she is frozen; immobilized as if those black orbs were pulling her into their depths.

Try as she may, she cannot free herself from them. And they will not release her. She struggles against the hold they have on her, but her plight is ultimately fruitless.

“What do you want from me?” She asks in her growing desperation. “Where are my packmates!” She speaks her questions as if they were demands, but there is no denying the quiver in her voice. She is still but a child only pretending to be brave.

At first the owls are silent, deaf to your pleas. They stare back at you with wide, unblinking eyes. They do not move, not so much as the slightest feather. You could be forgiven for thinking that they are not real. Surely mortal creatures could not be so still, so statuesque.

They can feel your fear. It is an emotion they know all too well, for they are not mere birds. They are, as the quiver in your voice shows you already know, so much more than just owls. They are a warning.

“We are the Tundes,” They chorus, in one voice.

They begin to drop from their perches and fall to the earth, but when they land it is not the body you thought. As they meet the floor, they are wolves, wolves you know well. Wolves you have known all your life. Familiar faces, both those long dead and those you still thought living.

You can only watch helplessly until only one owl remains in the boughs, and you are surrounded by the fallen bodies of the pack you are sworn to keep the peace of.

Her eyes narrow, frustration bubbling beneath the surface she tries so hard to keep placid.

We are the Tundes.

A chill slithers down her spine, turning her blood to ice. She remains silent for several heartbeats. She closes her eyes and shakes her head viciously, as if hoping they were but an illusion she could shrug off. When she opens her eyes again, she sees them fall from the branches and collide with the ground.

Dread washes over her when she notices the sickeningly familiar shapes that replace their once feathery forms. Tundes… They’re dead… They’re all dead… She is feeling particularly helpless by now. The Peacekeeper drops to a defeated crouch, gazing miserably at her fallen packmates.

Then her pale eyes lift to look at the only remaining owl.

“How… How do I stop this?” She asks, still holding out hope that this is just a vision; a ghastly apparition of what has yet to be. Or perhaps she is in denial to the truth surrounding her.

The final owl blinks slowly, eyelids rolling over huge, empty eyes. It speaks, it’s voice sonorous through the deathly silence of the forest.

“Stay true to trade, Peacekeeper.”

The owl spreads its wings, preparing to take flight.

“Even if divided. The Tundes must stay true.”

It sets off into the sky, and your eyes follow. You squint as it eclipses the sun, lids pressing shut for a brief respite…

When your eyes open again, you are awake, alone in the aftermath of your dream. What did it mean? Do dreams mean anything at all, truly?

Description
Stay True

In the distance you can hear it - violence. The guttural snarls, the clashing of bodies, the hisses and yelps of pain. It sounds like war, though the island has never known war before, you can’t be completely sure.

Still, you turn toward the noise, determined as you are to keep the peace and defend your home. You thought you knew this forest like the back of your paw, but suddenly it seems foreign. You see only three paths before you, carved through the trees.

To the left, it seems bright and clear - you can see into the distance, feel the warmth of the sun.

To the right, the forest follows a violent river, urgently carrying water to the north, splashing onto the rocks that line the way.

And in the center, darkness. You can see nothing.

A sudden howl of agony pierces the sky. You must choose a path quickly.

She stands at the crossroad, her legs trembling with anxiety. She can hear their cries and she knows she must go to them. She knows it is her duty to preserve peace, to guard tranquility. She must shield them from the evil that has been unleashed upon their home. One of these pathways will lead to them, she senses, but which route to take, she is unsure.

Panic begins to well inside the young Peacekeeper, and her inexperience is betrayed by the frantic beating of her heart. Calm, she soothes herself and tries to steel her emotions. There is no room for sentiment, she reminds herself. Her own emotions will only add to the cacophony and make it more difficult to discern the correct path from the false.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, finding that inner harmony she had been trained to procure. As a harrowing howl splits the sky, her eyes open once more; a decision has been made.

She rushes forward, a streak of light into the darkness.

You choose the darkest path.

As you race blindly through the forest, creatures watch you, unblinking eyes somewhere in the depths. You might glimpse them now and then - are they a figment of your imagination?

There seems to be no noise anymore. You wonder why the sounds have ended. Silence does not always mean there is peace. But this pathway you have chosen… it never seems to end. The darkness just goes on, and on, and on… but the eyes in the darkness… They begin to grow in number. The further you run, the more you see.

All of a sudden, light floods the earth, so bright that for a moment you have to close your eyes. When you open them once more, you are not alone in the forest, for perched on every branch as far as the eye can see…

Owls.

Anxiety causes her pelt to prickle, the feeling akin to sensing the electricity in the air in the midst of a thunderstorm. She thinks she is being watched, but cannot be certain. Her eyes divert from the path every so often to ensure that she is not being followed or observed from the foliage. Much to her growing discomfort, whenever she looks directly where she caught the glimpse of eyes, there is nothing to be found. She thinks that perhaps her mind is playing tricks on her…

The further she treads the dark path, the quieter her surroundings become. The sounds of battle fade into the black, as if the darkness is swallowing them. Does that mean the shadows are consuming her too? She decides not to think to deeply about it, instead carrying on through the dark.

Light, blinding and painful, cascades over her. Her golden pelt is bathed in its brilliance as if she is but a brand of sunlight. As her pale-green eyes flutter open, blinking frantically in an attempt to adjust to the luminance, strange shapes come into view. She recognizes them immediately. Owls. All are watching her through piercing, black gazes--gazes which appear to be unfathomably deep. For a moment she is frozen; immobilized as if those black orbs were pulling her into their depths.

Try as she may, she cannot free herself from them. And they will not release her. She struggles against the hold they have on her, but her plight is ultimately fruitless.

“What do you want from me?” She asks in her growing desperation. “Where are my packmates!” She speaks her questions as if they were demands, but there is no denying the quiver in her voice. She is still but a child only pretending to be brave.

At first the owls are silent, deaf to your pleas. They stare back at you with wide, unblinking eyes. They do not move, not so much as the slightest feather. You could be forgiven for thinking that they are not real. Surely mortal creatures could not be so still, so statuesque.

They can feel your fear. It is an emotion they know all too well, for they are not mere birds. They are, as the quiver in your voice shows you already know, so much more than just owls. They are a warning.

“We are the Tundes,” They chorus, in one voice.

They begin to drop from their perches and fall to the earth, but when they land it is not the body you thought. As they meet the floor, they are wolves, wolves you know well. Wolves you have known all your life. Familiar faces, both those long dead and those you still thought living.

You can only watch helplessly until only one owl remains in the boughs, and you are surrounded by the fallen bodies of the pack you are sworn to keep the peace of.

Her eyes narrow, frustration bubbling beneath the surface she tries so hard to keep placid.

We are the Tundes.

A chill slithers down her spine, turning her blood to ice. She remains silent for several heartbeats. She closes her eyes and shakes her head viciously, as if hoping they were but an illusion she could shrug off. When she opens her eyes again, she sees them fall from the branches and collide with the ground.

Dread washes over her when she notices the sickeningly familiar shapes that replace their once feathery forms. Tundes… They’re dead… They’re all dead… She is feeling particularly helpless by now. The Peacekeeper drops to a defeated crouch, gazing miserably at her fallen packmates.

Then her pale eyes lift to look at the only remaining owl.

“How… How do I stop this?” She asks, still holding out hope that this is just a vision; a ghastly apparition of what has yet to be. Or perhaps she is in denial to the truth surrounding her.

The final owl blinks slowly, eyelids rolling over huge, empty eyes. It speaks, it’s voice sonorous through the deathly silence of the forest.

“Stay true to trade, Peacekeeper.”

The owl spreads its wings, preparing to take flight.

“Even if divided. The Tundes must stay true.”

It sets off into the sky, and your eyes follow. You squint as it eclipses the sun, lids pressing shut for a brief respite…

When your eyes open again, you are awake, alone in the aftermath of your dream. What did it mean? Do dreams mean anything at all, truly?