The night was growing old. The moon had long ago reached its peak in the sky, and was now slowly sinking to that dark place that lay beyond the horizon. As of yet, however, its presence was still enough to light up the sky, and with the myriads upon myriads of stars, it lit the ground below.
There is an isolated forest, they say, somewhere tucked within the mountains, that no human has ever visited. That forest is so densly packed with trees that those creatures that do inhabit it do not know the difference between night and day. Indeed, it is said that any light will instantly drive them away, which is why one only sees there glowing eyes at night, and then, only briefly.
It is in this forest, so they say, that a clearing resides that, if one with mortal eyes did ever happen to gaze upon, would cause that one to be no more. This clearing (some thirty yard across), they say, is , if legend holds, filled with soft wavy grass, not much more than knee high at any point, and various other shrubberies. The wind often weaves through these ground, gently sliding around these different obstacles as it makes its way to and from the treeline. The grass gradually decreases in size until it reaches the rim of reeds which mostly surround a small lake, somewhat oval-ish shaped (about ten by six yards). Indeed, there is only one portion that is not surrounded by reeds: for that part is adjacent to a small covered octagonal pavilion (about three yards in diameter) - how this building came to be, no human could ever tell you. For even the ones who had heard of such a place had different stories as to its origin. It was there, as was the grass, as was the wind, as was the forest.
And it was on this quiet scene that the moon, for the time being, shown its light.
And then, it was quiet no more: from two separate corners of the field, a rustling. It was not just the wind...
Iwazuma and m139 present:
A Chance in the Night
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