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Cyrus frowned as he knelt and examined the tracks of the deer. The herd he was following had a doe with a twisted hind leg. From what he could glean from the tracks, she was still with the herd. He was surprised a wolf or a bear hadn't gotten her yet.

Shrugging, he stood, and set off walking once again, following the faint game trail. He smiled grimly, thinking that he probably shouldn't have gone so deep into the Blynryf Mountains. But again, his family needed meat for the winter, and he was the only one who hunted. He smiled again, albeit not so grimly.

For a time, all he heard was the nighttime sounds: crickets chirping, wind whispering through the needles of the forest, shrubbery rubbing against his boots and the forest floor. Cyrus glanced up at the full moon, surprised he could see it. It was directly overhead, signaling that it was about midnight. Glancing back down to make sure that he hadn't strayed off the trail, he realized he could hear the sound of breathing.

Just a few feet farther carried him to the edge of a clearing. In the center lay the herd of deer. Cyrus smiled again, this time sadly, as he fit an arrow to the string of his bow. Before drawing the string back, he tried to find the injured doe. She was lying on the outside fringe of the herd on the opposite side of the clearing from him. Quietly, he crept around the clearing to the other side, making sure to stay well inside of the trees, and crouched behind a bush.

Taking a deep breath, he drew the bow, swinging the tip of the arrow up to point at the doe. He took another deep breath, trying to steady his heartbeat, then another. Having realized that it was midnight and he needed sleep had put him in quite a hurry. He took one last deep breath, prepared to release the string...

And an explosion ripped through the clearing. Being deer, the herd took off, forcing Cyrus to spring forward after them. He skid to a halt and released the arrow. A hot wind rushed past his cheek, and that was the only warning he got before a white light flashed through the clearing, blinding him. Acting on instinct, he threw himself back into the trees and rubbed his eyes, attempting to help the afterimage fade.

When the throbbing flash finally faded, he slowly came up out of the crouch he'd thrown himself into and looked into the clearing. The image he found was the opposite of what he'd seen before.

The trees on the side of the clearing had been stripped of their needles, making them look like bony fingers reaching out into the night. Some had even had their branches ripped off or incinerated. The grass in the clearing was bent down, radiating out in a circle, and the area nearest the center of the circle, there was no grass, as it had been obliterated.

Focused as he was on the details of the damage to nature, it took Cyrus the longest time to see the true source of the explosion: a white and red stone. Creeping out of the bushes, Cyrus slowly advanced towards the stone. He pulled an arrow from his quiver as he got closer and cautiously crouched next to the stone, examining it by sight. About a foot and a half long, it looked like it was mostly white with veins of red webbing through it, with red flame-like designs here and there. Slowly extending his arm, he poked it with the arrow, then jumped back. When nothing happened, he slowly walked back to it. He poked it with the arrow again, but didn't jump back, since he knew nothing was going to happen. Better to be safe than sorry, though, he reflected.

He picked it up, curious now, rather than cautious. It was quite heavy for its size. Nature had never polished a stone this smooth. Even the red veins weren't cracks or fractures, and there were no irregular bumps or scrapes. He frowned. It is possible that the stone was sculpted by magic, and Cyrus had always been taught that magic was no good for you, was a bad thing to dabble or experiment with. This was because of the example set by the current king of Xufros, King Septus.

Xufros wasn't the whole continent, Cyrus reflected. It was only the part that Septus was able to control. The whole continent of Oriath contained Xufros, Mobristan, which was a country that had seceded from Xufros soon after Septus became king, the Blynryf Mountains, the Cryvyrt Mountains, Xro Gurabrea, where the elves--if there even were such things--lived, and an enormous expanse of unknown land to the east.

With the thought of magic, Cyrus almost dropped the stone, but something stayed his hand. He shrugged. At the very least, it might pay for some food. Reaching behind him, he unbuckled his pack and slipped the stone in.

Not wanting to sleep in the open clearing, he quietly slipped back into the forest and, spreading his bedroll, fell asleep under the forest canopy.

Sometime before dawn, Cyrus rose and packed his bags, yawning. Even if the sun had risen, the tightly knit trees would prevent him from seeing it.

Making his way back down to his house would be even harder than the way up. Following the deer had been the easy part, as they generally followed a straight path; on the way down, he had to follow faint game trails that often backtracked or took a wrong turn. Long and painstaking as it was, it was still the fastest way down.

Later that day, sometime near midafternoon, he heard the faint roar of a river. Cyrus smiled. He was making better time than he had hoped. If he was thinking about the right river, then this was the Ruqisp River, which flowed into the valley which his home sat in.

Another few hours passed, during which the sound of the river grew louder, until around the time he planned on bedding down, he came across a canyon, at the bottom of which the Ruqisp ran. Cyrus smiled again. He was making incredible time, despite the delays of the game trail.

He was just spreading out his bedroll when he heard another explosion, similar to the one he'd heard last night. Springing back into a crouch, he pulled an arrow from his quiver and fit it to his bow, aiming it towards the sound. However, it had come from several kays away, and Cyrus didn't see any smoke which would have signaled a forest fire, in which case he would've had to get out of the forest as quickly as possible.

Smiling tightly, he assumed it was another stone. However, he did not feel like trekking all the way back there with winter already starting to impose its chill over the earth, and harvesting still to be done back home.

Cyrus shrugged some five minutes later, finally letting all of the tension drain out of his body and putting the arrow back in his quiver. Grimly, he suspected his troubles that started with the stone's appearance were not over.

Sitting on his bedroll, he ate a cold meal of bread and cheese. Then he lay down and fell asleep.