The Stag stepped to the center of the glade, and roots began to spread outward from the soil beneath his hooves, like veins across the earth, pulsing with the same soft, blue light that had engulfed its body.

  The trees shimmered faintly. The stars above flickered, rearranged themselves. Then, for the first time, he spoke.

  No voice. Just words inside my mind.

  The forest forgets those who do not listen. But it remembers the ones who wait.

  The message had anchored itself inside me, threading through my thoughts.

  The Stag stood motionless in the center of the glade, his antlers crowned with dew, mist curling around his legs. Then he spoke again.

  Who owns the Forest?

  Is it the Strong?, he asked, and the vision of the three wolves cornering the fox came to life from the mist swirling around his hooves.

  Is it the People?, he asked again, showing me visions of villagers collecting herbs, cutting wood and building their homes at the edge of the woods.

  Is it the Kings?, he asked, showing me vast armies, funneling furnaces and booming industry.

  I remained still. Who owned the forest? Before my little evening trip, I couldn’t have answered this question. Even now, I had no idea what the Stag wanted to hear from me, but an answer had already formed in my mind, that I truly believed.

  "The Forest gives to the ones in need, and it takes away from those who are greedy. But it is owned by neither the strong, nor the people, nor the kings of this land. The forest was here before they came, and it will be here long after they are gone. The forest is nature’s constant, and it can not be owned," I said, thinking about the ancient stones, and how they were talking about eras long past, then the fox that was surrounded by the strong, and saved by one of the people not for anything to gain, just because it was there.

  Then I thought about all the growth, the flowers, the trees, both ancient and young, in a perfect circle, birthing and dying and birthing again.

  The Stag watched me, but didn’t respond for a long time.

  You saved the weak and yet spared the strong. Why?

  He asked after what felt like hours had passed.

  "I will not ignore the ones in need when I have the power to protect them, but I’m also not going to act as jury, judge and executioner against those who only fight for survival," I said honestly. The wolves were not my enemies. They were part of the Forest, and it was not my place or responsibility to handle them.

  But you did kill the children of the forest before.

  I knew he was talking about all the wolves, wild dogs and boars that I have hunted for materials and exp, and frankly, I had no good answer for this. It was a game after all, and it was the best way for me to level up. Truth be told, I didn’t think I would have to morally answer this later in the game.

  "That was about my own survival and getting a foothold in this world," I said truthfully. "The animals were dangerous to the population living around the area, and us, adventurers are responsible for their safety as well."

  He looked deep into my eyes.

  It is true. The Hunt isn’t exclusive to the children of the forest.

  You contributed to the circle. You are accepted by the forest. You walk with reason and care, and you don’t take more than you need. You respect the Forest, and the Forest respects you.

  I gasped. The reward came so suddenly. I almost forgot I was playing a game, and it hit me like a cold shower.

  You are welcome in our woods, Orion, the Stag continued, and somehow I wasn’t surprised he knew my name.

  "Thank you," I said sincerely. "Can I ask who you are?"

  I am the Guardian of the Forest. The Elder Stag. The Wanderer. There are many names that have been given to me in the past eras of the world. I am the one to See but not be Seen.

  "It was an honor meeting you." I bowed, and the Stag bowed back.

  There is someone here owing you gratitude, he said suddenly, and the fox that I had saved earlier appeared behind him, approaching me gracefully.

  "Hey you!" I said with a grin, caressing its fur. The fox purred.

  Thank you, adventurer, for your kindness.

  The voice of the fox resonated within me, warm and melodic. Once again, I wasn't surprised it - no, she - could speak.

  "You can talk, too?" I asked.

  Everything can talk, adventurer. The question is, can you understand it?

  That was pretty deep.

  "Who are you?"

  You can call me Lune.

  "Well, it was nice meeting you, Lune," I smiled. Then I suddenly remembered something. A collar, my first drop in the game. Maybe?

  The children of the forest do not wear collars, the Stag said, and the fact that it actually read my mind was probably the scariest thing that had happened to me in this game so far.

  "I didn’t mean to disrespect anyone," I held up my palms.

  Show me.

  I conjured the collar from my inventory and put it on the ground, before the Stag.

  He touched it with his antlers, and the leather strip changed into something way more elegant and graceful; a little green medallion attached to a silver neckpiece.

  [Amulet of the Wild]

  Rare

  Can be used to form a pact with an animal of the wild.

  I held my breath. This was definitely not turning out as I expected it to be.

  I picked up the amulet, then looked at the Stag, and then to Lune.

  "You are too kind to me," I bowed.

  The Forest gives to those in need, and takes away from those who are greedy.

  The Stag quoted the words I had said just moments ago.

  Lune walked up to me once again and sat between my legs, waiting. I knew what I had to do.

  It was almost poetic.

  Orion, the lone ranger, forming a pact with Lune the fox.

  Lune, as in the moon.

  This was a very subtle way of saying Orion and Artemis had formed a friendship once again.

  We were in the middle of rewriting mythology.

  "Lune, would you be willing to be my partner in the adventures that are yet to come?" I asked, looking at the fox.

  She rose on two legs, put both of her paws on one of my knees. She didn’t say anything, but I took that as a yes.

  I used the amulet.

  I started playing with my newly found companion. Lune was running around, climbing on my back and then started resting on my shoulder. She didn’t speak anymore, but I figured maybe when the time was right, she will.

  I bowed to the Stag once again.

  "Thank you. For everything."

  It didn’t reply but bowed deeply, then started moving.

  I followed.

  The forest had shifted again. The glowing pulse beneath the roots had faded, and the mist had thinned.

  The Stag moved ahead with slow, graceful steps, never too far nor too close to me. Every time I blinked I feared he might vanish again, but he didn’t.

  We had arrived in a clearing, not too wide and strangely circular, ringed by twelve gnarled stumps, each one different than the other.

  A small pedestal stood at the center, shaped like a stone flower blooming towards the sky.

  The Stag stepped to the edge and turned. His gaze met mine one final time.

  What will you remember?

  I hesitated briefly, then said.

  "That the wild remembers too, even when the world forgets."

  The whole forest seemed to exhale.

  A soft breeze drifted through the clearing. The trees shivered. The Stag stepped into the center. Light gathered around him, rising like the morning sun.

  And then, slowly, silently, he vanished.

  No explosion. No fanfare.

  Just… gone.

  With a bling, I leveled up to level 13 due to the massive exp gain and all the hunting I had done when returning from Riverhear to Carpa. I spent my attribute points into dexterity this time.

  This quest line was something else. The rewards were great, of course, not to mention that I formed a… friendship? With a fox.

  But the entire ambience, the atmosphere, the lore behind it was so deep and heavy that I almost forgot that this was all artificial.

  It was touching on a whole other level. The immersion was not comparable to anything I had ever felt.

  I must have stayed still for a couple minutes, Lune wandering around my vicinity, still taking it all in.

  After a while I looked around, confused for the millionth time this night.

  I tried pinpointing my location. I was sure I had walked miles. I have been tracking the spirit for at least 7 hours, judging by the fact that it was just dawning.

  I climber ridges, crossed rivers, passed ancient stones.

  Yet as I turned to retrace my steps I caught a glimpse of something familiar.

  The lantern post just beyond the treeline. The one at the northern edge of Carpa.

  I walked toward it, disbelief rising. As I stepped out of the woods, I saw the village in the morning haze.

  I turned slowly. Behind me, the forest stood quiet.

  No spiral path, no ancient grove, no runes. Just trees.

  Had I gone anywhere at all?

  I checked my status window. I was level 13, the title was there, I had a pet.

  Yet, I was right around the part of the ridge where it all begun.

  It didn’t feel like I had finished a quest.

  It felt like I had stepped into someone else’s memory, followed its echo and returned with a story I couldn’t be sure even existed.

  But maybe that was the point.

  As I walked back into town, the villagers were just waking up.

  Vendors were returning to their stalls, players were logging in fresh, blinking off the lag of their real-world lives.

  Everything was the same. Or was it?

  The trees near the northern gate seemed just a little bit taller. The moss on the stones a little brighter.

  My capsule timer buzzed. I had been online for 22 hours. I will be locked out of the game for a whole day.

  Still in disbelief, I opened the system menu and hit Log Out.

  As the world began to fade, I looked north one more time, toward the ridge.

  And I smiled.