The forest had always been my place. It was my escape from everything, where I could lay and read and sing and talk about whatever I wanted without judgmental stares. Birds and bugs weren’t rude like people, they’d like anyone well enough if they gave them seeds and sugar water.

But the forest wasn’t only my place. It was others, too, like the birds and the bugs and the squirrels and the trees. And… the Others.

They weren’t as rude as people, either. They’d like anyone well enough if they sang and talked to them. And I’d like anyone well enough if they’d let me sing and talk. So the Others and I got along just fine.

They were rather impatient, a little immature, a bit demanding. So when the chill of fog began to cling to my dress and my tree, I knew I hadn’t opened my eyes fast enough.

“Oh, you can’t be upset with me!” I called. “Terribly sorry for blinking.”

The fog thickened, creeping up the tree trunk. I sighed, standing and turning to find one of them. “Hello. How are you?”

It didn’t respond, but it hummed, so low the ground rumbled, and I grinned.

“Enjoying yourself?” I asked playfully as the fog crept above my shoulders. It cocked its hidden head. They’d always had a habit of playing with me, and I’d tolerated it well enough. They always behaved nicely, when it came down to it.

I hoisted the book I’d been reading; a biography of Nicholas Martin, the first Gnome to breach ground. He fascinated me, as most things did. “How about you shoo this away so we can read, hmm?”

For a moment, nothing changed, until the Other crept closer and lowered itself to the ground, the fog clearing as it landed on the grass. I plopped down beside it.

“Wonderful, I was afraid I’d get a chill.” The Other hummed, and I laughed. “Yes, I’d be absolutely forbidden to come out here for weeks if I’d been sick!” This seemed to displease it, and I felt sure I was safe from future clouds of fog.

“Alright, now, Nicholas Martin…”