Freiyon Fables A Tail To Remember

Micklang looked around, puzzled. This was not the same place he remembered. This was entirely a different area. What had happened? He could only remember the escape from the zoo and falling into a hole but… how did he end up here? He struggled onto to his feet when a new revelation came over the squirrel. He happened to be looking into the water the moment he got to his feet, and saw his reflection. His fur had completely changed. No longer was he the red squirrel he had always been. The grey stomach and the dark grey main fur, combined with the lightning shaped tail that had black and white in various areas made for a very interesting looking squirrel.

Above all else, he could actually act almost like a human, able to stand on his hind feet and use his paws like human hands. He stared at this revelation for a few moments in awe, not entirely sure what to think of it, however after these few moments in silence he collected his thoughts and began to move on. “I am here, this has happened to me, the one thing that I wanted has happened though. I have escaped that cursed zoo. The only thing that could make this better now is if I could find out exactly where I am now. Perhaps I can find some answers nearby. It’s worth a try.” He whispered to himself. It is important to note here that Micklang wasn’t even entirely aware that he had talked properly like a human, as this would come to him soon.

The squirrel started to walk through the nearby forest that bordered the river he had woke up at and looked at the trees and bushes that surrounded him. The trees seemed off to him. He had seen trees before in the zoo, and had even run past some during his escape, but he never had seen so many different varieties gathered in one area, and without any sign of human involvement.

He sat down at the trunk base of one of them, a conifer tree, and began to study his new form more as he relaxed. He was on the verge of sleeping when a voice thundered loudly. “Well now, in the name of gr’eerd quartz, what sort of creature might you be, little one?” He felt the conifer tree start to move and before he could react completely, the tree had stepped back three paces and seemed to be staring down at Micklang with two hollowed out eyes. Micklang was completely transfixed to the spot in fear. The conifer tree obviously realized how scared Micklang was and tried to calm the squirrel down. “Oh dear me, I’m sorry for startling you like that. It seems you are not from this world, as it is quite common in this place for trees to be able to move and talk. Although strangely not all trees, I’ve never been able to quite work out why.” The conifer tree extended a branch down to Micklang like a hand in greeting. “Please forgive me, I wasn’t aware you did not come from our world. Come now, I don’t mean you any harm. My name is Tursorl, what is yours? And what exactly are you if you don’t mind me asking.” Micklang took a look at the extended branch and made another look at the tree, still surprised at the conifer’s huge size.

“I’m a squirrel; a tree climber that collects nuts and, usually, doesn’t like swimming, but I will if I have to. My name is Micklang, but you can call me Micky for short. I’d prefer that for now.”

“Well, young Micky, a squirrel that’s a tree-climber and a swimmer, you have quite gifted talents. Would you like to meet my friends?”

Jumping into Tursorl’s hand, Micklang replied happily.

“I’d love to sir.” Tursorl chuckled again, wobbling Micklang around in the process.

“No need to call me sir, just call me Tursorl. I am Chief Tursorl, chief of the trees of Faraway Lake. It is good being a chief, because the other trees listen closely to my rules and follow them precisely, although, you do have to watch out for the occasional restless one. Ahoy, my fellow trees, this be our new friend. Calls himself Micklang the squirrel, but he’d rather be called Micky, which is fine with me. You can show yourselves now.” Tursorl announced.

Expecting the trees to come out from behind things, Micklang was surprised to see most of the trees he had seen earlier turn and look at him and Tursorl. There were tons of different types of trees including Eucalyptus, Ash, Conifer, Acacia, Oak and Pine, all of which walked different ways and swayed gently when the wind blew through their leaves.

“What’s a squirrel, do they all have strange tails like that little one does, Tursorl?” One ash tree, a young one, asked.

“I’m sure he’ll fit in around here just fine, won’t you Micky?” A kind female Acacia tree smiled.

“Tursorl, how would you like to invite young Micky to tea? I’m sure he’d love that.” All the trees murmured as they gathered around Micklang.

“It looks like you have some admirers, Micky, thanks to that strange lightning shaped tail of yours.’ Tursorl whispered to him, chuckling as he waved to another tree.

Tursorl then stopped and popped Micklang onto a dead log and clapped his hands for silence. Micklang had to cover his ears with his paws from the noise.

“Fellow trees, young Micky is new here. Where he has come from, I do not know, but he will be treated greatly by us and then he can tell us what his business here is. Micky requires rest and food, and I hope you can give him just that. While he is here, he will experience our lives and learn our culture, so I implore you all to treat him well and remember that he is not from our world and needs to learn things we might find normal.” The trees all cheered happily and started to greet Micklang with great enthusiasm, many of them unsure still as to what he was and where he came from. It soon became evident to Micklang that he certainly was not in the same world he used to come from, and it was even more evident to him now that his new form gave him the abilities to try new things. While he lived among the trees and experienced their daily routines, he learnt much and asked many questions, which the trees were indeed happy to answer. They informed him of their culture: of how it was a religious belief that all trees that walked and talked were brought to life by one single being, a mound of golden leaves and bark they referred to as ‘The Wise One’. The Wise One’s living place was inside a giant cave near the tree clan’s village and none of the sentient trees knew where it came from or how it got its magical abilities. This being, they told him, would glow at times the trees now could predict and when it glowed, it would touch a tree or other living being and this would mean, through ‘The Wise One’ and it’s magic, that the being was chosen for something great. Most of the time, this was related to a new chief of the trees being selected, but sometimes there were other roles that would be apparently given out, such as warrior or guard or a creator of some kind. When Micklang was shown this pile, he felt oddly happy in its’ presence, even though to him it was just a mound of stuff. It certainly felt like it could, in this world at least, perform fascinating magic. He was told that once before it had done something truly bizarre and it was something the sentient trees never understood. “It split two beings into four. Two of those beings have not been seen afterwards, but I fear that the return of the original two beings may mean something quite sinister.” Tursorl confided with Micklang one evening. Micklang would never come to understand what this was referring to for the rest of his life. However it has been noted of some importance to the sentient tree history.

Micklang was also taught about the bizarre language the trees used sometimes. The phrase ’gr’eerd quartz’ referred to ‘The Wise one’ and was often used in sentences when the trees were surprised by something. ’Trengthgrit’ referred to a battle between trees, a fearsome and indeed death inducing battle where only one could survive. These were used as last minute disputes in times of chief choosing and were never recorded as being used over small moments. It was explained to Micklang that there could be something referred to as an ’Ani-trengthgrit’, which was referred to when an animal or in extremely rare cases a human would fight a tree. From time to time Micklang also was aware that this strange language was used as a better alternative to swear words, something he was thankful of since he had heard swears too much from the humans back in his original world.

Things all seemed to be going well for Micklang on his first few days with the trees, but on the tenth night there as he slept in a bunker provided for him by the trees, he had a strange dream. In the dream there appeared another version of him, but this one wore a sword belt around his chest and a vest made of some material Micklang hadn’t seen before. In the dream, this warrior form of Micklang spoke with a sense of authority and bravery, the type which the real Micklang currently didn’t have. “To become the figure that you see in front of you, there are some quests with which you must do. The first will involve becoming a kin to the chief of trees. Learn their ways more and discover the rotten one among them, and you will be rewarded greatly.” Micklang, the real one that was having the vision, tried to ask why he had to do these things, but he found he was unable to talk. Micklang didn’t know what to think about what was going on, but in the presence of this new Micklang he felt like things would make more sense if he listened carefully. The warrior squirrel woke the next day and felt quite exhilirated and eager to carry out this new purpose.