I kept my head on straight and my eyes forward as the march began. My friends and family I left behind, for they were much stronger than I. They could remain rooted to this town, like things that had been planted and had the power to stand on their own means. I was more like the chaff left behind in the fields, never meant to stay on the thing which grew it. I pretended like I left on my own will, but this was a front.

There was no vehicle to draw me forwards, for this was not a time in which such a thing was readily available. Not even the beasts had fallen to the sway of man yet, so I walked alone and long. Plains and forests became beautiful things to my eye and then blended together until they no longer kept my interest. I carried no cart, nor any belongings, and this was the one thing I was grateful for. The emptiness of my possessions gnawed into my stomach when I became hungry, and slipped into my throat when I became parched, but my back held tall without the burden of a sack hanging from it.

I knew when I arrived, for a home is a simple thing. It is not the place where one such as myself would settle, but the place that held something I wanted. Something I wanted, that I would not gain right away. I would need to wait here, until it appeared. I didn’t know what it was though, nor when it would arrive.

The stars here burned in different colors, ones I had not yet seen before. Reds, pinks, yellows, greens… it was nearly brighter during the night than it was during the day. I could have stared up at the sky all night, but I felt the sky was staring back at times, and this thought unsettled me. I was alone out here on the mountains, and I did not wish for company. Whatever fae and tricksters lurked out here, they would have no part of me, and I would not be so foolish as to seek them out. When the ground asked me why I was here, I did not respond. It stayed quiet after the first night.

The house was hard to build, though I needed little. Felling trees was no simple task, but it was one I was good at, and I put down the foundation easily. It was the furnishings I struggled with. I had never been a good hunter, nor skilled with any weapon. For many months, I lived without hides for blankets, or curtains of any sort. Carrots and onions were easy to come by, but my skin soon grew pale and discolored without any variety. I tried to grow the bones of the rabbits that I dug up out by the garden, but the ground refused to take them. The ground asked me if I was hungry, and once again, I did not respond. The ground said it understood and sent a bound rabbit to me the next morning.

The next month, I put my house up on stilts, so that nearly none of it was in contact with the ground. I did not know what manner of spirit lurked within the soil, but no spirit was willing to give a free lunch to one such as myself. It took far longer than I expected to lift the house up onto the platform, but I managed it. I also ate the rabbit, though I hesitated at first. When it did not rot, I grew weary, but eventually gave in to my hunger. It was fine, and I felt better afterward, but I buried the pelt in the ground so I would not owe it that.

As I was bringing water up from the spring one day, I paused beside the stairwell to see a fine layer of dust coating the stone below. The dust shimmered in a way that suggested the work of something far beyond myself, glimmering in soft hues. I asked the ground about it. The ground said I could name it. I did not, for I knew this was a trick.

But in the days following, the ground grew quiet and sad. I could feel it in the earth itself, in a way that concerned me. This land had grown to be quite dear to me now, and it seemed to weep at the way I would ignore it. I would not name it, I would not take from it, and I would not talk about the thing beneath the stairs, which now had grown into strands. I could not bear the sorrow, so one night, as I lay in my cot, I whispered a name for it. Then, the earth was quiet.

I checked on the stairs each time I passed by now. Hard rocks grew from the strands, smooth and porous and shimmering with color. I asked more clearly this time: what is the thing growing beneath the stairwell? The ground reminded me I had come for something, and that I was waiting for it patiently. I did not know what this answer could mean, but neither did I know why this place had become my home, so I accepted what the ground had said.

I grew adept at hunting, at last. My body grew stronger, my clumsiness forgotten. I cut my hair in the fashion I liked, and I spent the evenings learning things I had not even considered before. I was not lonely, but the ground was safe to speak with, so I spoke to it often. Most of the time it did not respond, or at least not in a way that could be interpreted as human voice or thought. I stood on it though, and it stood on me, and we walked alongside each other and slept near one another. We gave each other gifts, and we remembered one another.

The star-colored bones beneath the stairwell grew flesh, and then fur. It took ten years for the creature to fully form, then they emerged, and waited for me. As I brought the water pail back to the house, I saw them waiting at the foot of the stairs and understood I would not be returning here. They waited for me to approach and sat patiently as I gathered my things for the journey ahead. This was no longer my home.

The dog with the star-colored bones allowed me to place a thin rope around its neck, to keep us tied together in case of rough travel. They did not speak any longer in my tongue, but we understood one another still. Out we set, for the next place, leaving nothing behind but the wood and the hides and that which neither the ground nor I would have use for. We walked to the next home, and perhaps the last.

– Drew Wilcox