The Golden Fool

The forest swallowed them whole.

Apollo felt the transformation immediately as they passed beneath the first true canopy of trees. The grassland's emptiness had been unsettling, but this, this was something else entirely.

Sunlight fractured through overlapping layers of leaves, creating a twilight world of dappled shadows and muted greens. The silence they'd experienced in the open hills seemed to gain substance here, thickening around them like invisible fog.

"Feels like we're being watched," Thorin muttered, his voice unnaturally loud in the stillness. The dwarf's hand rested on his axe haft, fingers tapping an uneasy rhythm against the wood. "Not by eyes, mind you. By the trees themselves."

Apollo understood exactly what he meant. The massive trunks rose around them like pillars in an ancient temple, their bark furrowed with age, their branches stretching overhead in complex, interlocking patterns that allowed only the most determined sunbeams to reach the forest floor. The gold in his veins pulsed faintly, responding to something unseen.

'There's power here,' he thought, 'old and patient and not entirely welcoming.'

"We need to find water," Renna said, her practical tone cutting through the forest's oppressive atmosphere. Her hunter's instincts had already taken over, eyes scanning the ground for signs of animal tracks that might lead to a water source. "Everyone stay close. Thorin, watch our backs."

They moved deeper into the woods, fallen leaves crackling beneath their boots with sounds that seemed almost obscenely loud. Apollo kept his hand near the bow slung across his back, drawing comfort from its strange warmth.

The quiver of arrows tapped gently against his hip with each step, a reminder of the weapon's mysterious power.

The deeper they went, the more the forest closed in around them. Undergrowth became sparse, as if nothing could thrive in the perpetual twilight beneath the heavy canopy. Occasionally, a shaft of sunlight would pierce through, illuminating dust motes that hung suspended in the air, unmoving despite the group's passage.

"Look," Renna said suddenly, stopping in her tracks. She pointed upward, to where a massive oak bore three parallel gouges across its trunk, not at chest height like the marks they'd seen at the forest's edge, but nearly fifteen feet up, as if whatever made them had been reaching for the lower branches.

Apollo's mouth went dry. "Those are fresh," he said, noting the pale inner wood still oozing sap. "Very fresh."

"Too high for any natural animal," Mira whispered, her good arm clutching her injured one protectively against her chest. "Even standing on its hind legs."

"And look at the spacing," Lyra added, her green eyes narrowed as she assessed the damage. "Those claws would be as long as my forearm."

They moved on more cautiously, huddling closer together as the forest grew denser around them. Apollo felt the weight of the trees pressing down, a canopy so thick it seemed to absorb not just light but sound itself.

Their footfalls became muffled, their breathing hushed, as if the forest demanded reverence, or fear.

"Over here!" Tomas called, his voice startlingly loud despite his attempt to keep it down. He stood beside a massive tree whose roots had been partially torn from the ground, the soil still loose and freshly disturbed. "Something came through here. Something big."

Apollo approached, crouching beside the exposed roots. The earth smelled raw and mineral, freshly turned. He ran his fingers along one thick root, feeling where it had been snapped rather than cut, broken by something with tremendous strength.

"It was moving fast," Tomas continued, pointing to similar damage on nearby trees. "See how the pattern repeats? Whatever did this was charging through the forest, not stopping to feed or mark territory."

"Running from something?" Nik suggested, his usual humor absent as he leaned heavily on his walking stick. "Or chasing something?"

"Or someone," Cale said grimly.

The implication hung in the air, unspoken but understood by all: they might not be the first travelers to pass this way. The thought did nothing to ease the tension that had settled across Apollo's shoulders like a physical weight.

Renna resumed the lead, her steps more deliberate now, each footfall placed with careful precision to minimize sound. Apollo found himself breathing shallowly, as if too much noise might attract unwanted attention.

The gold in his veins had settled into a steady, warning pulse, not immediate danger, but the potential for it lurking just beyond perception.

They had been walking for perhaps another hour when a subtle change in the air caught Apollo's attention. A faint coolness touched his face, carrying the slightest hint of moisture. He quickened his pace, moving up beside Renna.

"Water," he murmured, inclining his head toward the sensation. "Not far."

She nodded, already adjusting their course toward the promise of relief. The others followed without question, parched throats and cracked lips making them eager despite the forest's oppressive atmosphere.

They found it in a small clearing, a narrow stream cutting through the woods, its banks lined with smooth stones worn by water's patient touch. In any other circumstance, the sight would have been beautiful, peaceful even. But something about this stream struck Apollo as fundamentally wrong.

The water ran with perfect stillness, its surface unmarred by ripples despite the slight slope it traversed. No insects hovered above it, no small creatures came to drink at its edges.

The water itself was too clear, revealing a streambed of white stones that seemed to glow with faint luminescence in the forest's perpetual twilight.

"Water," Nik croaked, stumbling forward before anyone could stop him. "Thank all the gods."

Mira caught his arm, her fingers digging into his sleeve. "Wait," she said, her voice tight with alarm. "Something's not right with it."

"It's water," Cale countered, his own thirst evident in his cracked voice. "We haven't had a drop since yesterday. We don't have the luxury of being choosy."

"Look at it," Mira insisted, pointing with her good hand. "Have you ever seen water so still? So clear? There's not even algae on those stones."