He must seek his own answers. Tunnel had not expected the fairies to hand him an explanation but they could have been a little more specific about where or how he could seek those answers. It is not like him to go about his day with a purpose, but on this winter morning, he moves through the tangled undergrowth with purpose. After giving much thought to what he has done since leaving the deep Forest, he chooses the begin with doing something he never bothered to in the past.
From day to day his patterns have altered. He ranges through the outer Forest, drifting in sun and shade, his silhouette boiling with darkness. The vast tree-filled common land had once been a shelter and hunting ground but it feels ever more like a cage as Tunnel feels his changing continue. He is shedding something, just as he will shed this thickened blue-black pelt come spring.
In the forest, it is always cold, but winter has its own bite that joins with the usual eerie chill. He has drawn up to a clearing near the western edge of the forest where he has many times heard and smelled others. The day is overcast and young, but already the light is unfriendly to his eyes. No matter, his questions are more important than the acuity of his vision during the day. He makes out the shape of another, hazy but there along the edge of the clearing. “Have you been in this Forest long?” Says the creature Tunnel, his voice a low rumble, absent the cold indifference of years gone by.
