Exhausted from a long day of wandering through the forest, relaxing in the warm breeze with his feet in the cool water running down from the mountains, and achieving nothing more than forgetting why he set out in the first place, Gerylde the hermit arrived home to find a cooked meal waiting for him inside. It was a hare, cooked over fire. Half of it, at least. The other half had vanished, along with the chef.

Ryleine had been round then. She was such a sweet girl, making sure to visit every few days to check up on him. Gerylde remembered when he used to pop around to visit her, back when she was too young to string together more than a few nonsensical syllables, accompanied only by excessive saliva and giggles.

A lot had changed since then. The girl had learned to talk, and walk, and how to survive in the forest. Gerylde had more or less forgotten how to do all of those things. He wasn't sure how he had managed that last decade, living on his own in a little hut deep in Rordynne Forest. But, he fully intended to stay there, living alone for the remainder of his years.

Ryleine was one the few people he ever saw, and he loved every visit, even if she always gave him that pitiful, worried look – the one that suggested she wanted to take him home with her so that she could look after him there.

Although, there was also that strange fellow the other day. Appeared out of nowhere. Leathery skin, spent too much time in the sun. What was his name? Not important. The point was, he very rarely saw anybody. Those that did know he was there called him the hermit. His name was all but forgotten.

Feeling satisfied from his dinner, he lay down on the crude cot in the corner of the room, and gazed up at the ceiling. He often wondered how many more storms it would survive, but his workmanship as a younger man had proven effective. His hut had survived through everything with him, had seen off the hard years, just as he had.

His eyelids fell limp, and it wasn't long before he was snoring, sleeping deeply as he always did. And as the sun rose gently over the horizon, so too did Gerylde depart from the land of dreams. But his rising was sudden and panicked.

Where was it? What had he done with it? Had he lost it out in the forest?

He jumped out of bed, and began turning over all of his possessions in a desperate search. What the hell had he done with it? It must be somewhere!

His hut was a mess, and he was no closer to finding it. Frustrated, he sat down on a stool, shut his eyes, and tried to concentrate, to think about where he may have left it. He searched his memories for any sign of it, for an indication of where he may have put it. Hidden it perhaps.

Then it occurred to him. What was he looking for?

He sighed and walked outside. Whatever it was, it must be out there somewhere.

It was a pleasant morning. Sunny and warm, with a light breeze. Perfect. It was exactly why he lived out there all alone in Rordynne Forest. The wind rustling through the deep green leaves of the tall trees, the numerous birds singing in harmony, and the calls of animals ringing through the dawn. It made him feel happy; his meagre possessions were not important, only that sensation he felt every morning when he realised he was exactly where he wanted to be.

He glanced around, searching in all directions for whatever it was he was looking for. He was certain he would know what it was just as soon as he found it.

The old hermit wandered in the direction that felt right, keen eyes darting between the trees. He wasn't worried about getting lost. After so many years in the forest, he knew every tree personally. He'd named many of them. He'd had conversations with some of them too, though he wouldn't admit that to Ryleine lest she pack him up and move him to her cabin. He knew the trees didn't talk back, but that didn't mean that they weren't good at listening. And occasionally, he had plenty to tell them.

It wasn't long before Gerylde realised that he would need some help to search for his lost item. Rordynne forest was huge, and finding something in it would be very difficult, even if he did know what he was looking for.

"Imps!" he called, and they were there.

They were always there as soon as he called. They followed him around, concealed until he needed them, then vanishing again as soon as he left. But they were always nearby.

"How are you this morning?" he asked.

As usual, they didn't answer. He suspected they couldn't speak, or perhaps he simply couldn't hear them. Regardless, they were there, and they were good company.

"I am looking for something," he said. "Can you help?"

The nearest imp, standing a few steps in front of him, cocked its head and gave him a curious look. It was a strange creature. Ugly really. About a foot tall, dark brown skin with patches of light green all over its body. Its arms and legs were long and twisted, forking into tiny little fingers. It was often difficult to read their expressions, as if they didn't have any emotions or didn't waste time thinking about anything.

"Well, can you help or not?"

The imp still didn't reply.

"What about you?" he said, looking up into the canopy. "Anything up there?"

There was another imp sitting on a branch in the tree above him. The imp shook its head, though Gerylde wasn't convinced it had bothered looking. Something was wrong. The imps seemed to be rather unhelpful.

"Any of you?" he called out louder, frustrated.

One of the imps moved, darted into the trees. Gerylde raced after it, as fast as his aching legs could carry him. They bound through the forest for what must have been half a day, and Gerylde was exhausted by the time the imp came to a halt in a dark ravine with a little stream running through. He took the opportunity to take a break, drinking the cool water, and washing his face. Refreshed, he turned to find the imp waiting patiently at the top of the ravine, with several more surrounding it.

"Glad to see the rest of you have caught up," he said. "We must keep searching."

He followed the imps up the ravine, still scanning either side in case he saw what he was looking for. Fortunately, the pace had become much more reasonable, and he was able to keep up with them without too much effort. The imps were unpredictable. They were there whenever he called, but by no means could he control them. They did what they pleased.

Out of nowhere, a massive beast jumped from the foliage to block his path. It growled viciously, edging from side to side, claws extended to full length, scraping deep gashes in the dirt. It was just a few long steps away from him, still growling and snarling, threatening. The imps were panicking and running in all directions. Except towards the tiger.

Well, it wasn't exactly a tiger. It was twice the size of a normal one, and its fur was black with long blood-red stripes down its sides. It looked nothing like a real tiger. Also, there were no tigers on Renryre Island; hadn't been any since they had lost the mainland. Whatever this was, it obviously didn't exist.

Gerylde burst out laughing.

"Calm yourselves, imps," he said. "This tiger clearly isn't here. I think I am just getting a little old, starting to see things that aren't there! My imagination has run a little wild!"

He shook his head. He was old. When did that happen? Well, he supposed madness had to set in one day. It seemed as a good a day as any, given he had no idea what day it was.

"You are a cute kitten aren't you," he said.

He took a step forward towards the giant tiger, and it cowered away. Well, in his imagination it cowered. The creature looked confused. He closed the gap swiftly and confidently.

"Come here, you!"

He patted the giant beast on the top of its head as it tried to slink away, its eyes and ears pulled all the way back, its snarling all but ceased.

"Have you seen it?" he asked. "What I am looking for?"

The creature turned and bolted, vanishing into the thicket almost instantly.

Gerylde shook his head and giggled a little more. He couldn't say he never expected it, but he had hoped to keep his wits a little longer. He turned back to his imps who had all cowered behind him while his mind had played its tricks. He knelt down to get closer to them, to get a better look at each of them.

"At least you lot are real!" he said. "Now, where were we? What were we looking for?"

One of the imps clapped its arms together and trotted off into the trees, the rest followed close behind. Gerylde wasted no time falling in behind them. He didn't want to be left behind.

It was afternoon by then, the sun high above, though its rays barely broke through the thick trees, with only spots of light swirling in the shadows, dancing on the forest floor.

"Are we nearly there?" he asked. "I don't want to get caught outside when the night falls. You know what prowls in the shadows."

No matter how well he knew the forest, he didn't want to be caught after dark. There were wolves hunting in packs at night, and they weren't likely to allow him an easy retreat.

The giant black tiger emerged from the forest three more times while he followed the imps, each time growling softly and backing off. It wasn't threatening any more, in fact it seemed almost friendly. It was acting as if it wanted him to follow. But Gerylde preferred to follow the imps. They, at least, weren't figments of his imagination.

Gerylde's Tale continues in The Lost Hermit part 2 >>>