I looked at the hourglass in my hand. One more useful tool among the botanists remains what I had claimed for myself. It was good to keep track of time, although time in the dark forest seemed to be as consistent as spring weather. Which is exactly what I wanted to investigate today. Full of excitement I flipped the hourglass and put it down on the table. I tied the rope around my waist, shouldered my bag, then stepped out of the home and strode confidently into the forest, counting out loud.

Ten minutes later, I strode confidently back. Ducking into the small space, I checked how much time had passed. I was disappointed to see the results; about 1/6 of the bottom half of the hourglass had filled.Time inside the refuge and outside had passed at the same rate.

“Only ten minutes? Not more?” I leaned back against the wall, staring at the smugly draining hourglass. “And what do you have to say for yourself? Do you take pleasure in proving me wrong?”

It didn’t answer. Of course. 

“Fine. Every hypothesis requires multiple tests. Let’s see if I’m wrong again.” I flipped the hourglass, shouldered the bag, and walked into the trees… again. Just as my refuge was about to disappear from sight, I stopped. I turned around and traced the rope that anchored me with my eyes. Maybe time flowed constantly because of my physical connection to this place?

I fingered the knot that kept the rope tied. What if I gave up control? I had everything I needed to survive, even if the other denizens of the forest weren’t ignoring me. Maybe this was what I needed to change in the experiment.
   
    “A rope connects me to safety,
    But also ties my curiosity,
    A decision must be made,
    And so let the price be paid.”

I untied the rope and blinked.

When I opened my eyes, I choked back a shout of surprise. It looked as if the world had died. The trees were twisted and broken, with the heartwood exposed to the elements and their branches bare of leaves. The ground was covered in dead plant life, and the soil was cracked and brittle. To any normal person, it would have appeared to be a graveyard of greenery, but I was gifted with sight beyond that. I could see it was all a fake. The trees only appeared dead, and even as I watched one of them casually uprooted itself and began to trundle around. The humanoid “corpse” that had been propped against it jerked up and moved to follow it.

And that corpse… to call it that wasn’t accurate. Obviously it was moving, but even beyond that my ashsight revealed that it was powerful, beyond that of any of the Forest guardians. As it turned its back to me, I saw why. Flicking inside a cavity that had been gouged directly through its spine was a twin of the Salamander’s fire. It burned happily in its host, seeming to cause no harm to it. The creature turned to look at me, fire blazing in its eye sockets. It was because of this, with the internal fireplace hidden, I noticed something else. The body didn’t have the same tell-tale sparks that other forest creatures had. This thing was once human. 

I shuddered, even as my eyes met the twin sparks in its skull. The spark that was my own heart burned a little brighter in faint recognition, but I felt no kinship with this thing. It wasn’t from the Forest, even if it apparently was connected to the Salamander. It kept my gaze for several seconds, then turned back to follow its rebellious backrest.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I blinked again.

The first thing I heard was the rustling of many trillions of legs. Even in the darkness, the movement was impossible to miss. With ashsight, it was nearly blinding. An ocean of ants wrapped around the trees, so thick that it was difficult to see the bark. As I watched, I noticed waves of the insects breaking off from the rest and heading towards me. They reached me and formed a perfect circle, thickening into a tight band of black chitin around me. Each one held a single spark, but there were so many of them that it looked like an avalanche of purple.

Blink.

Water lapped over my hooves, and roots twined in thick bridges that flowed around the endless pools. Light glowed from deep within, illuminating the dark shapes of the aquatic creatures that called the Flooded Forest home.

Blink.

Ghostly trees stretched up from the ground, sparks plainly visible even without ashsight. They moved in a wind that I couldn’t feel.

Blink.

A colossus stomped through the forest, its craggy form pushing aside trees.

Blink.

A band of red-hatted fae chattered amongst themselves in a forest clearing.

Blink.

The trees are thinner here, but taller, forming into graceful arches above.

I began to lose track of how many times I blinked, and no longer attempted to take in my new surroundings. I had found a way to move through the Dark Forest quickly, but it still wasn’t controlled. I had no idea how big the Forest was. How many times would I have to blink to return home? And what dangers might I face?

As I was thinking this I noticed a new constant in my travels. Mist had been rising around my ankles. With every blink, it seemed to grow deeper, and, unlike the other dangers, wasn’t disappearing, but seemed to travel along with me. I remembered my first encounter with the mist of the Dark Forest, when I'd been cast out of the Campgrounds. It had tried to smother me then… was it trying to do the same now?

“What are you up to?” I followed the question with a closer examination of the vapor, this time through ashsight. Unlike the rest of the Forest, the water was missing the glow that I’d come to associate with things commonly created by the Forest. As I watched it seemed to dull the sparks around it, damping them down. Experimentally, I touched a nearby tree, trying to coax it to grow into a different shape. No response. The dimmed sparks seemed unwilling to listen to me.

“What is this mist? Something foreign?” As I spoke, I noticed a slight brightening of the sparks in the tree, and the bark beneath my fingers popped open. Then, the ash settled again and it stopped.

“Hm… So you are listening, but more to my words than my thoughts. Then let’s try something.”
   
    “Oh mighty tree,
    Hear my plea,
    I’ll be brief,
    Give me a leaf.”

As I’d expected, the sparks brightened again, burning away the mist near them. Each word seemed to resonate with the sparks, and once more I could feel that other intelligence battling against my control. Just like last time, it eventually gave in and a single green leaf popped out of the tree. I smiled down at the leaf, plucking it and rolling it in my fingers. “If words have more power, can I use them to move?”

Turning my attention back to the mist, I noticed it had dispersed somewhat. I no longer felt its chilling touch on my legs, and the sparkling energies of the Forest had returned around me.   

I rubbed my hands together in anticipation. “Let’s see if I’m right.” I sat down on the mossy ground and began to compose.

    “A grave of bone,
    Outside my home,
    Safety inside,
    With which to hide.
    A golden flame,
    And a hearth to tame.”

    I blinked again, and to my immense delight opened my eyes to a familiar tree. Standing up, I walked to the entrance and peeked inside. And there, sitting where I had left it on the workbench, was the hourglass, now completely empty. I sighed to myself. “I guess I’ll have to try that again later.”