The air of the forest was a little cooler, a little more humid than the air of the plains, heavier, and with the tastes and scents of innumerable things. The sunlight was dappled, filtered through the leaves and branches of the trees overhead.

  Simone was suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of claustrophobia; she couldn’t see very far, and the feeling of being surrounded by trees, pressing in from all sides, was nearly suffocating.

  The spirit led the way, trotting ahead self-importantly, spectral tail waving and undulating like smoke. Simone struggled with her uncertainties and fears as well as trying to memorize the path she was taking; she already wasn’t sure she could find her way out without help.

  Her shaman training insisted she trust the spirit to lead her to where she needed to go, but there was no way she could shake the uncertainty- she was venturing into the forests, a place that the elves of the plains chose to stay away from.

  The forest itself was packed with plants she had no names for, bushes and flowers that defied her limited understanding. Flowers sprouted in every conceivable color. The air was alive with the sounds of chirping birds, chattering rodents, and other unseen animals scurrying about. There were moss-furred rocks and roots to trip the feet, and low branches threatened to bonk her head if she wasn’t vigilant.

  Simone's vigilance ratcheted up as they went deeper into the forest. She kept one eye on the fox spirit, and her other eye on her surroundings, trying to take it all in.

  When Simone had escorted Ash to the forest several years prior, she had led him to the edge of the forest, and there, they parted ways. This time, however, she traveled into the forest.

  “You are not well-prepared for your journey.” The fox observed dispassionately.

  Simone was dressed in the manner of her people; an ankle-length skirt, a sleeveless top, a shawl, all decorated and fringed. Her feet and legs were bound in strips of leather; the forest floor felt completely different beneath her feet. She carried a pack with her, stuffed with a bedroll and stuffed with all sorts of odds and ends; things she thought she'd need for the journey. She carried her nearly-finished spirit staff in her hand, and her knives were at her belt.

  “I prepared the best I knew to.” Simone replied doubtfully. The fox laughed at that, and then abruptly changed direction; Simone scrambled to follow after it.

  It picked up speed; Simone was forced to trot, then to run, chasing after the enigmatic fox. It never seemed to slow down or speed up, it kept the same pace, a few running steps ahead of Simone, long tail swirling and rippling through the air, long ears swept back as it lunged forward, easily loping between trees and over rocks, even as Simone panted and struggled to keep up.

  The elves of the plains were used to running long distances. Whether it was for hunting, or for travelling, or even for the sheer fun of it, the elves of the plains ran. While they never grew to be particularly strong, they did develop a hearty and robust stamina that allowed them to run for hours. Despite this natural advantage, Simone was gasping for breath and gushing sweat- running in the forest and running on the plains were separate things. There were all sorts of hazards for the feet to trip over; rocks, tree limbs, roots, fallen branches, piles of fallen leaves that concealed hidden depressions, there were too many places for an unsuspecting foot to catch and trip.

  After Simone collapsed, the fox spirit circled her three times, and then sat down, facing her, a few feet away. At first, Simone just wanted to rest, but the ground was rocky and uncomfortable; instead, she pushed herself up with arms that felt as weak and floppy as boiled leather.

  “Ahu.” The fox urged, while Simone struggled to arrange her scrambled thoughts into something comprehensible.

  As a shaman, part of communicating with spirits involved invoking them through ritual. There were many different rituals that could be observed in preparation to invoke the spirits; each shaman had their own preferred method. Alteima herself preferred to clear a space just outside of the camp, and then burn offerings with a wood fire. The fact that wood was rare on the plains made no difference to Alteima; when she decided that it was time to invoke the spirits, wood would be found. After she chose her spot, but before Alteima would light her fires, she would fast, abstaining from food for several days, purify herself ritualistically, and only then would she burn her offerings.

  Alteima wasn’t Simone’s only teacher, however. There were infrequent gatherings where tribes came together to exchange news, for matchmaking, to trade, and when those meetings happened, shamans exchanged apprentices so that they could learn different things.

  An ahu was a spirit mound that was constructed by carefully stacking rocks atop each other. They couldn’t be just any rocks however, they had to have significance.

  If the spirit wanted her to build an ahu, then there were steps, first. First, she took off her clothes and wiped herself down as best she could. She couldn’t bathe, not like Alteima, and she couldn’t fast, either.

  So she wiped herself down, brushed out her long white hair as best she could, and then carefully applied the spirit paints to her body.

  Afterwards, she redressed, and searched for rocks that she could stack. The fox spirit kept its strange, spark-filled eyes on her as she went through this process, and solemnly watched as she carefully stacked the rocks she’d chosen into a squat tower.

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  As she topped it with a glassy black stone, the fox spoke.

  “Why did you not command me?” It asked.

  Simone didn’t hesitate. “For many reasons.” She replied.

  “Speak them.” it replied.

  “I’m only an apprentice shaman.” Simone began, “I’m not wise enough to command anything beyond small children.” She paused. “The second is a lesson my master taught me: ‘Do not reach for power beyond your grasp’.” She gestured with her hands. “Something the People of the Mountain should have heeded.” She shook her head. “I am not-” She paused, searching for the right words, “I’m not wise... but I’m not stupid, either. I am sure that if I tried to command you, you would slay me on the spot.”

  The fox didn’t move or say anything in acknowledgement, but there was a sense of amusement radiating from it.

  After a moment, the spirit fox with timeless eyes shifted slightly. “Prudence and caution are steps to wisdom, but fortune favors the bold.” it replied. “In your journey, boldness will be key to your survival.” It lifted its chin a hair. “Command me.”

  Simone froze; icy sweat trickling down her back. She had been taught at a very young age to never, ever, ever command a spirit. To do so would invite disaster. There was always a consequence, and that consequence was disproportionate to the command itself.

  “Command me.” it insisted again.

  She took a breath, trying to center her thoughts, trying to calm her roiling stomach.

  Within her was a wellspring of power, the source of a shaman’s spiritual strength. She struggled to embrace it, to let it fill her, so that she could do as she was told.

  At first it was like snatching at raindrops, at fog, but eventually her power filled her being. The earth was dark and rich beneath her feet; she took a breath, feeling the earth supporting her from below, felt the air against her skin.

  She allowed her scattered thoughts to disperse as she breathed in the world.

  “Then, in the name of Simone, child of Alteima, of the Free People of the Plain, I command you, spirit:” Simone paused for a heartbeat. “Tell me the name that I should address you by, for I should like to greet you properly.”

  The spectral fox turned its muzzle to the sky and howled laughter at the gathering clouds.

  “Even in your arrogance, puny creature, you are cautious.” it sneered after it lowered its muzzle to look at her. “You may address me as Vitalen.”

  Simone’s shamanic powers drained out of her as she sagged with relief; the Spirit Fox Vitalen rose up to stand. “As vexing as it is, you have managed to pass this test of mine. Eat and rest. I will return for you when you have awoken.”

  It faded away from where it stood, until Simone could no longer sense it.

  The next three days were a routine of running to the point of sweaty exhaustion, building ahu, foraging and hunting, and taking instruction from Vitalen. The fox spirit was often forgetful of Simone's physical needs; seeming surprised each time at the cries for water, food, or rest.

  “Your mortal form is inconvenient.” Vitalen observed indifferently as Simone squatted in exhaustion. “You should embrace your spiritual nature more.”

  This was something the shamans talked about all the time: having a connection to the spirits was something that needed to be strengthened and improved. There were all sorts of methods that were discussed- the use of herbs and mushrooms, fasting, meditation, and the active use of innate shamanic powers.

  “There was an apprentice shaman...” Simone began thoughtfully, “who thought that he could develop his abilities more rapidly through chewing a special root used in certain rituals.” Simone offered hesitantly. She turned her thoughts to the first time she'd met him; he was wide-eyed, insensate, drooling. He was cared for, but he was also a cautionary tale to other shamans.

  She relayed this to Vitalen, who turned its head.

  Simone followed its gaze; there was a cluster of flowers that grew in a dappled pool of light. Some were taller than the others, some were more vibrant than others. The implication was obvious; each grew according to their environment.

  “Come.” Vitalen commanded, and Simone struggled to her feet.

  The fox led her into a clearing in the forest; sunlight streamed down uninterrupted from the skies above. There was a ring of stones that bordered the clearing, monoliths arranged purposefully.

  Simone had been to a sea elf town. The bases of their homes were made by carving smaller stones into blocks that were then fitted together. That was the closest comparison she could make; the stones in this circle were much larger, but had obviously been worked, shaped.

  But who had the strength to craft such a place? Stones stacked upon stones, each many times her size, creating a ring of columns. How were they lifted into place?

  “This is marae tabu. Be cautious.” Vitalen intoned, and Simone froze in mid-step. Marae tabu. Sacred ground, holy ground, forbidden ground. Simone couldn't move; her feet were rooted. A place forbidden to all, because it was a gathering place for spirits.

  “You trusted a spirit you didn’t know, and in return it led you to the one place a Mortal shouldn’t enter.” it challenged, its hollow voice filled with amusement, irony, and a certain primal glee, the kind a predator might feel after successfully leading prey to an opportune spot. “I wonder what that says about your character.”

  Simone’s vision went white, her mind hazy, her body numb. Vaguely, she felt her knees hit the earth and a small part of her registered that she was falling, falling... and then all went black.