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[Days, months, weeks, years. How long had it been, since he had known life? Since he gazed upon the world, and was able to tell a tree from a tree, how the sky functioned. How life went on even if you stayed still, ten feet in the ground.

A flutter of crimson, and it began again.

There was a form, in the middle of the forest, rising from the grassy ground. The movements are slow, but fluctuating, a low, inhuman sound rumbling through the silent night. From the stiffness of his shifts, it is apparent he hadn't moved in a long time, the distance of his eyes struggling to comprehend the workings of this strange, unusual world.

He blinks, the glow in his eyes swirling once, dulled by months of hibernation. His pale face seems even moreso in the faint light, his body stopping just inches from the ground.

This forest, desolate of a single soul. The crisp, cold breeze the only reassurance he could be offered to null the anxiety. Sound, and sense, fluttering a thick, heavy cloak in the wind.

Still with that vacant gaze in those once-luminous eyes, he shifts enough to rest against a nearby tree, splintering bark crinkling under his weight as he sighs once, soft, crystalline fog brushing out of his near-blue lips, into the unending sky.

He was alone again. It was how he was destined to be.]