Scene 8

From an orienteering standpoint, being underground and being in a forest are similar beasts. When underground, the simple fact that you have no available clues as to where you could possibly be is the underlying issue. All is in darkness, and the sensorial qualia that is available is rather limited. In a forest you are faced with a different set of issues. This comes down to a quality that forests and the greater universe share called isotropy, or homogeneity depending on who you ask.
Put simply, this means that any direction you look, you basically see the same stuff. Trees, ferns, mosses, rocks, more trees, but limited landmarks to act as guideposts to tell you where you are. This isotropy can be observed in the natural world every evening by looking up into the sky and observing the stars. Mostly, you see the black yawning void of space with a star here and there. Constellations can be observed, but they are statistically insignificant and a result of pareidolia. Any direction you look, you will be greeted with a similar view. The fact that you can look down and see a planet is a rare set of circumstances in a universe that is mostly empty.
Fyndraxis was able to experience this isotropy firsthand in the patch of forest where he found himself. When he had abided underground, he hadn’t really given any thought as to where he actually was. It was just a peaceful patch of darkness where he could rest his mind. Now, faced with a forest that was demonstrably somewhere, he immediately started wondering where it was.
There were some statistical outliers in this arboreal isotropy. He was ensconced in a black raspberry bush, and he could observe some maple trees through the background noise of leaves and other greenery. In his pocket universe, there were two kinds of trees, dark green and light green. This denoted whether they were a conifer, or deciduous. The place where he found himself was fundamentally different and more complicated than the universe he hailed from.
Another one of these statistical outliers was a youth of about sixteen years. At first glance, he seemed to be engaged in some rather dedicated napping, but on further inspection it was clear that the boy was dead. This seemed to be a rather recent phenomenon. No scavengers had taken advantage of his unfortunate state of affairs quite yet.
Two crows, who Fyndraxis immediately began referring to as Hugin and Munin, were scoping out the scene though. They noisily debated back and forth, circling around the issue of whether the boy was taking a nap or not. He did look like he could spring up at any moment and continue to do living boy stuff, which crows were decidedly not a fan of.
He would have had a bit of trouble in the springing department though. One of his legs had been amputated just below the knee. This was a rather surgical piece of work. The tibia and fibula lay nestled in the complicated muscle groups that they called home, and the whole thing would have looked appropriate gracing a medical text or the window of a butcher shop.
Hugin, being the bolder crow, flew down from his perch and had a go at the boy’s eyes. When this was met with no protest, Munin followed suit, but went instead for the marrow of the boy’s leg. The crows, like this whole tableau, were almost a murder, but not quite.
The boy’s leg wasn't the only thing that had been subject to a bit of surgical intervention. Roughly a dozen trees had been cleaved at about chest height for a man. There was no evidence of chopping or sawing, just perfect bias cuts that were so precise that some of them gleamed in the midday sun.
Taking in this whole scene had taken Fyndraxis roughly ten seconds or so. He eventually realized that he wasn’t breathing. Breathing was an unnecessary habit that he kept to ground himself, but its absence was unsettling so he retreated to his sanctum to digest this new experience.
In his sanctum he took a few nice deep breaths and felt his pulse for a dozen beats or so. His habit of keeping a heartbeat and breathing were a sort of lie that he told himself to stay on the saner side of things. Going off the rails was something that he tried to avoid, and breathing seemed to be a rather important part of that ongoing project.
Once he got settled, he began to pace and think. This was just the sort of breakthrough that he had been yearning for for the last few millennia. It was a bit of a shame to lose the peace and quiet of his underground abode, but the novelty of a new space to explore was undeniably good news.
He couldn’t deny the fact that this new place was a different sort of reality than the one that he had created. It was more detailed in every way. His knowledge of trees was a rather limited thing, so in the creation of a forest, he had settled on green ones, and dark green ones. The creator of the universe beyond must have been some sort of tree fetishist to create such a diverse and boundless forest.
He didn’t feel insulted exactly, he knew that his creation was rather sub par, but seeing a professional at work gave him a chance to have a slice of humble pie or two. When faced with the prospect of freedom, he had thought that he would have immediately cast off his bonds and bolted toward the horizon in a celebration of liberty, but this wasn’t exactly the case. He was just a touch intimidated by the prospect of venturing forth into the unknown.
He wasn’t too intimidated to give the boy a proper burial though. That would have been the right thing to do anyway. That was probably a real kid out there in a real world, and deserved the dignity of some sort of funerary rite.
Steeling himself for another bout of asphyxiation, he turned to the door that he had come through, and went back in. The forest was exactly how he had left it with Hugin and Munin pecking away at the boy. He took a second to get used to the lack of breath and heartbeat and tried to figure out why that would be the case.
A lack of appropriate hardware was the conclusion that he came to. In this place he had but one form. This form didn’t have lungs or a heart to keep the steady rhythm of life. He had no eyes, but oddly he could see just fine. Arms, legs, hands, and every other appendage that he usually took for granted were sadly absent. He was, against all odds and running counter to every line of reasoning, a sword.