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[b]Arin[/b]

[quote=Arin]And so, Arin took off to the left, holding the reddened lantern up high as he cautiously made his way up the hill.[/quote]

The reddish light cast upon rocks and leaves. It glimmered in the owl's eyes; it continued to watch him with an intrigued stare, but did not move to hinder him.

The fireflies stopped at the edge of the trees at the clearing. The lantern light shone upon a hand-width line of inlaid stone at Arin's feet; it was engraved with more runes and geometry, though these seemed fresher and better maintained than those at the lantern-tree. It extended to either side beyond the reach of the light, but it curved gently -- it was a part of a circle of engraved stone that encompassed the source of the candlelight and the clearing around it. The owl and the fireflies would not cross the line of stone.

A little waterfall splashed in the darkness on the other side of a knoll. A path took shape under Arin's feet. The lantern light paled to a gentle purple that gave the dark leaves and moss an unearthly glow -- and by the time the light shone upon the door of a little house, the lantern was once again as blue as it had been while it had hung from the tree.

Behind him, the owl hooted quietly.

A single candle flickered in the only window of a curious wooden hut that looked as if it had been molded out of a living tree. In fact, there was a sprawly looking little sapling growing out of its thatched roof.

More runes lined the door frame. A geometric array had been burned into the door itself. The only window was just beside the only door, and inside there was only a faint outline of a cluttered little room illuminated by candlelight -- but there was no one inside. At least, nothing appeared to be moving.

There were glass jars, wooden boxes, clay jars, cups full of pens and brushes, rolls of bark with runes scrawled on them, figurines and mossy little statues, cages with little furry things sleeping in them, watery tanks with little fishy things swimming in them, herbs and roots hanging from the low ceiling, drawings hanging on the walls, books stored tenderly between painted stones, and -- on a cluttered table that took up half the room -- a pair of familiar-looking scissors.

The waterfall gurgled on, and the owl hooted again. Something splashed in the water, and a toad creaked. The blue light of the lantern fell softly on little flowers and grass that had been freshly cut. The door was unlocked.