The plane landed with a thump on the paved landing strip. Outside, all the new arrivals could see was lush green. Fog blanketed every inch of the horizon. It was all rather eerie and haunting.

"You see! I told you it was all worth it!"

The cinnamon haired man glared over his shoulder. "I only came for the camping. Not the ghosts."

"Well this place will make you believe." Another voice piped up from Blaine's right.

It was official, his friends were crazy.

They kept talking about ghosts and how they would prove once and for all the things were real. As if spirits would want to linger on earth when they could go wherever the afterlife took them. And even if they did, would they really want electronic toting guys to find them? To capture them on camera and through a whole bunch of other expensive equipment?

Blaine kept wondering that all during the drive towards the forest where they would be staying. He wasn't sure if camping in the nearby forest was legal. Apparently Carter had gotten permission from one of the people who owned the land where the forest was, because of all the hauntings that kept going on. Ireland really was a place for people who still believed in things that went bump in the night.

Once at the forest, they stepped inside with bags slung over their backs, and in their arms. "So Blaine, you still think this place isn't haunted?"

Blue-gray eyes snapped to a freckled face. "Martin, this forest is just like any other pace we've gone camping. Old and creaky and natural."

It was beautiful, really. Moss covered trunks and green underbrush lined their path. And there was a path, a dirt one that veered off through different spots. It took the trio a little while to discover a clearing where they could set up their tents. Blaine was determined to stay in his own two person lean to, while the others were going to share a place of their own, if they managed to get it up.

Tachigami:

It looked to Fintan that the clouds had descended beneath the thick canopy above, which made up a thick roof of big, beautifully emerald leaves that rarely let more than a few wan rays of sunlight flicker down to the grassy floor. The trees here were so huge Fintan was sure he could fit more than a few of his cottages into the trunks alone, and sometimes he hoped one day to see what was so far up that only the clawed and winged animals could get so far up. His long limbs could run like wind, leap high, and gave him a grace he had been told few others possessed, but they didn't allow him to climb trees effectively. He didn't like going more than a few feet up, because the idea of falling and hurting himself was an awful one. He stepped away from his window and stretched, looking into his home.

It was small. He had been born within its walls and raised here. His mother told him that his father was a strong creature, powerful, with horns that put all the others to shame. But he had left, as was the same with the fawns, before Fintan was born. He missed his father, though he had never met the fawn, and had never seen him in the forest. But then, it was just so massive... He looked around at the simply made furniture, the room that made up a large portion of the main house. There was a simply carved staircase leading up to the bedroom. Beyond the living area and its large fireplace, which was more than necessary in the winter, was a small kitchen, based on what the humans styled their dwellings after. It was so hard to get material here, where no one knew fawns even existed, but it was easy, Fintan had heard, to scavenge for parts where they dumped them. Luckily nowhere near the forests, but that meant a longer trek to and from home when they were needed. It was why his home had no glass in the windows.

He didn't want windows anyway. After his mother's passing Fintan had discovered just how lonely it was here. He turned to the door and stepped out, onto the small stone stoop, and then onto the grass. Since so little sunlight reached the forest floor except in large clearings, the grass was short and kept that way by the herbivores and insects. Fintan didn't eat grass unless he was short on food himself, because it had an unpleasant tone and aftertaste.

Closing his door, he started forward, pausing and looking back. A small cottage, really. Lovely and secluded and rare, as far as homes went in this place. He picked his way through the fog to the natural orchard a couple miles out, large ears twitching and tail swinging from side to side in anticipation of any form of danger.

While the other two struggled, Blaine excelled. His hands put metal poles together with practiced ease. Then it was just a matter of sliding the poles through pouches in the tent's form to put it up. The tarp went over the small structure, and was settled into place with rope and pegs, as was the tent. It was well in place, off to the side of the clearing.

"Hey, mind putting up our tent too? We really want to go exploring," said Carter.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Sure, just don't get lost, you hear?"

His friends nodded and raced off after grabbing camcorders and other gizmos from their bags. That left Blaine alone beneath the tall trees, doing his best to put up yet another tent securely. This one was a bit more complicated, only because of the type of tent it was. He wished, not for the first time, that Carter and Martin had gone camping more often when they were younger. It was mostly because of that, he knew, that they would most definitely stay safe on the forest paths.

He found himself in the orchard quickly and picked up the old woven bag he and his mother would use to pick apples and pears and strawberries and anything else that would grow on the forest floor or in trees or on vines. Fintan hung the bag off one of his antlers, an ivory three-point situated just above his heavy ears, and started pulling large red orbs from the tree and dropping them into the bag. He barely had enough control not to eat every one he pulled off the branches, which was saying quite a bit since he was so thin and willowy. Still, the bag grew heavy fast, and Fintan had to pull it off his antler before it started hurting.

What time was it? He didn't have a way of telling specifically, but he knew the slant of the sun even when it had to fight with the fog that would become trapped among the huge trees. It was nearing evening and the humidity was lessening, and soon the night would be complete and clear, entirely dark. With the bag held in his long fingers, Fintan picked his way to where he knew a few berry bushes were. He'd had an awful habit of keeping his bags near where he harvested, something his mother had always scolded him about.

Between picking dark red berries and tossing them into the little bag, Fintan's ears twitched involuntarily when he heard something odd. A voice, more than one voice, talking together. Among themselves. He didn't know their tones, had only heard humans speak that way when he was ever so close as to hear them. Of course, that was before the others started tormenting them while staying just out of sight, like spirits in the trees and shadows to scare them out. Fintan had never done it---he preferred to keep away from the events. Still, he was curious. Setting his bags down against a tree, he lowered himself down and started creeping forward.

Carter and Martin crashed away from the camp. Their voices could be heard with no trouble at all, drifting through the trees. Really, the sounds they made sliced through the fog like knives through butter. "Come on, I saw something over there!"

Martin said something next. "... stay on the path!"

Blaine shook his head as he settled down on a small stool outside his tent. He fumbled through his luggage, trying to find a lamp he'd packed. It ran on electricity of course. This, he hung on a branch above his head before settling down again. The athletic young man pulled a jacket over himself, and swept some cream across his hands, onto his neck, on his ankles, to make sure that no mosquitoes would bother him while he started to read.

Fintan skirted the two humans with their clunky devices and wires and whatever else they dragged into the middle of the only forest that people were terrified of because of the rumor that it was haunted. And people like this... they liked to spy and try to find the nonexistent spirits. He was quiet, wincing at the loud voices and the lumbering footsteps. So inconsiderate. But they were coming from elsewhere. Fintan could smell something else, something they had left. And could hear movement, though it was dim. Creeping forward, he gritted his teeth and held his breath.

A light that didn't look like fire hung on one of the lowest branches of a large tree behind the human. What was it? It hurt his eyes, not at all like fire. Sweeping his hair back, Fintan moved around and behind one of the large dome-like dwellings, getting as close as he dared. His heart was pounding in his thin chest. He hadn't been this close to people like this before, not ever. What would this human think? What would he do? Fintan wanted to explore but there was no way he could do that without calling attention to himself.

The book was old and worn, something much read. Its cracked spine was testament to that. Blaine's eyes were focused on the slightly yellowed pages, reading through the classic tale with serious concentration. Treasure Island was his favorite book, and he didn't go anywhere without it. Of course there were unusual sounds all around. Branches creaking and swaying in the wind. The wind itself, whistling softly through the trees ... Crickets rubbing their legs together, creating a song all their own in the night.

It almost sounded like something scurried in the underbrush. Almost. Blaine ignored it, and bent his head closer to the pages. The sky was darkening after all. Night under the trees was even more lightless then under the skies. Starlight had a hard time making its way through the branches up above, and so did moonlight. It was no wonder, really, that Blaine was just a little jumpy.

His large, black liquid eyes made it easy to see in what little light was offered, even in foggy evenings or cloudy, rainy ones. The light, however, was painfully bright and sharp in his gaze and Fintan had to blink multiple times to even start to see what was over there. The human was bent over something in his hand, refusing to look up, so Fintan wriggled his backside a little to build up a bit of courage, twitching his tail left and right as he crept to the nearest dome, pressing his hand to the open slit and pulling it open a bit more. He could smell them. A specific human. Whichever one it was, Fintan couldn't figure it out. The scents mingled with other strange smells that he just couldn't place. He stuck his head into the flap and stared around. So many soft things.

He definitely heard something. Slowly, Blaine lifted his head from the pages of his book. He twisted around with care, and peeked at what had been roaming around. A behind was stinking out of his tent... And it had a tail. The young man blinked incredulously. Was this some kind of joke? Had one of the villagers decided to take advantage of the ghost hunters? Lure them in with tales of a haunted forest, and then send someone in to steal their things?

The young man didn't want to accuse anyone of theft without having proof. So he put his book aside gently, and shifted to make himself ready. All it would take was one lunge and he would be up and running. If that was needed.

The zipper, when it moved, was very strange. It sounded odd, a noise he couldn't place. The fabric was odd, so tightly wound with itself that he didn't know how it was made. Fintan wriggled in a bit more, looking at a red bag and pushing it open, bringing something out. It looked like a shirt, just not his kind of shirt. Nothing of what he wore, not even similar to what he wore. What was it? And the pants were so heavy. And the things with long ties, there were two.

He froze when he heard something shift behind him. Feeling his throat tighten, Fintan backed out, feeling his antlers catch on something. He flailed, shaking his head free of the fabric and throwing himself back. The human was up and staring straight at him, possibly as confused as him, but Fintan's mind was frantic, it didn't register the look. He shifted and got onto his feet, fleeing the scene and its sharp, ugly, bright light and the strange things and the human that looked like he was about to jump on Fintan's back.

"Hey wait!" Before he could even really think it through, Blaine set off after the ... other person. He jumped after it. Tackling the slight person near instinctively. It was the years of rugby that made him do it. And an almost certainty that the strange person who'd been peeking through his tent would run away as fast as could be if he didn't catch him right away. There was a sense of lightness and speed to the person, to the stranger. That would have made it too easy to escape.

So he'd tackled the fleeing shape, and now they were both on the ground. Blaine lay atop the slender form, arms wrapped around it tight. Something poked his face. The young man shook his head and leaned back slightly to peer at the antlers. Those must have been what got caught in his tent. "What were you doing, messing around in my tent?"

He went the most familiar direction he could. Home. He had to get home. Home was a safe place and though he was obviously leading a random human being to it, somehow Fintan knew if he just got home, just got through the door and closed it and hid under his bed and pretended he was relaxed and calm, there wouldn't be any danger. No worry. No fear. He sped so quickly he was sure he could take off and fly at any moment, but the trees were so thick. He had to slow down now and then just to go around the huge things.

Then something grabbed him. He screamed out a terrified noise he didn't think he'd ever heard himself produce and went to the ground, throwing his head back and trying to grab the grass and pull himself away. But he couldn't get the guy off. He bucked, twisted, and finally found himself panting and writhing underneath the heavier body, mewling out little cries as his eyes blurred with tears. What would happen now? He could barely breathe. "O... Ah, ah...! Am s-s-sorry... Sorry..." He panted, trying to gain a full lung of air but finding it increasingly difficult. "P-please lemme up... wanna go home..." Home was his safe place. Nothing could get him there. Not even this big human.

He was panting because of the chase, and for having had to handle a squirming shape trying everything it could to escape. Blaine almost felt sorry for the poor thing, almost. The young man shifted to a sitting position, but kept his hold on the intruder.Very lithe, and terrified apparently ... Those tears, they certainly seemed really enough. Blaine sighed.

"Would you like it if I went poking around your home without permission? That's what you did to mine." Temporary home though it was, the tent was still where he would be staying for the next while. Any kind of intrusion into his space always left Blaine with his skin crawling and a slow burning anger simmering underneath his skin. He was sure his barely suppressed ire could be heard in his voice.

It was still hard to breathe but Fintan couldn't get the air---or courage---to tell the human to get off. The human seemed so angry. So furious that Fintan would dare get near anything he owned and it was incredibly... confusing. "S-s-sorry... W-we don't... I don't..." He panted, feeling lightheaded. "I... let anyone in... I-in my ho-ome... When they need..." He shifted and felt his antlers dig deep into the earth behind his head. His heart was going so fast he couldn't feel it anymore. Was he going to die? There were small lights blooming in front of his vision, swimming, and he finally went limp. Stopped his vain attempts to get away. He'd never been attacked like this before. He'd never heard of the concept of keeping people out of his home if they wanted to come in. He was just friendly. Curious, cautious, but friendly.

Belatedly, Blaine realized he was still partially onto of the slender stranger. Mumbling under his breath, he shoved the lithe form around until he was holding the stranger against his chest, without actually sitting or leaning on him in anyway. It had taken a little bit to get the horns out of the dirt though. "Are these for real?" He poked at the antlers, tugged at an ear with one of his hands. The other arm was still tight around the intruder. He just couldn't believe any of it. That someone was so naive as to let anyone into their home, that someone could actually have deer ears and antlers. It couldn't be real.

Fintan heard himself yelp when he was manhandled, trying and failing to get away again. This human was too strong for his thin body, built for speed and flight and escape, to wrench away from. He twisted his head, trying to get the probing hand away from his sensitive antlers, his even more sensitive ears. He gasped and shook his head hard to make the human stop pulling his ear. "Ow, stop! Please... Lemme go... Go back, I'm not gonna come back, I wanna go home..." He mewled again, delving into more of a pitiful, quiet sobbing. He wanted his apples and berries back, wanted to take them home and hide under the blankets in front of the fire and forget that painfully bright light in the tree and the weird domes of fabric that seemed to hold their shape on their own and the weird pair of thick fabric with the ties. And this human that didn't seem to care that he was hurting Fintan.

Blaine snatched his hand back as if burned. Everything just felt so real! Gentle, he pressed his fingers against the antlers again. "They're real ..." He looked at the young man in his arms with wonder. "You're really real. Some kind of .. of forest spirit, aren't you? Don't you know humans think people like you don't exist?" His hold gentled, but didn't disappear. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know your ears were really ears. I just thought all of was a trick, some kind of costume." The crying both made him feel horrible, and got on his nerves. It just didn't seem like the deer-being would ever quiet down to have a sensible conversation.

Shaking his head hard, twisting so his hair was released and didn't pull back painfully, Fintan panted until his breath was back. He didn't want to cause harm but felt dangerously close to kicking back and bucking the human off, then running back, perhaps zig-zagging so he lost the guy and didn't get tackled again. He couldn't run forever, but he could run faster than humans, especially in such heavy darkness that hid the ivy and the twisted roots, the fallen logs and streams and little empty riverbeds. "I'm n---no spirit, I just live here." He twisted again, letting out a noise of distress and finally, ultimately, going limp for the last time. "I don't know what you're talking about, I just want to go home. Lemme go! Your friends might... be back. They might be worried..."

Blaine tilted his head to the side. "You were curious about our things. Well, would you like to see them?" Now that he knew, knew for certain, that there was something more out there then what was obvious to the human eye, he just couldn't let it slip by without at least trying to find out more.

"My friends are out hunting for ghosts, for spirits. It's the whole reason why they came here. I just wanted to come camping." And now he had bruises and scratches to show for his wanting. "So you can look in my tent if you want now ..." Now that he knew the deer-being wasn't a thief, only curious.

Fintan gritted his teeth painfully, shaking his head in a short, jerky motion. "I don't wanna." He muttered. "I saw enough, I dunno what most of it is. C-camping..." What was that, exactly? What these humans were doing? Why would they leave their real homes? And didn't they have their own homes to begin with? He shifted, hoping that he could slide away from the human and run home. "Spirits..." He huffed, nearly snorting out a halfhearted laugh. "There aren't spirits here... Just... me. And animals. And others like me... They won't like you here. They don't like newcomers. And all that stuff you have... it makes our ears hurt. And the lights... they hurt our eyes. They'll try to get you out as soon as they know why you're here." And he just didn't care. He wanted to get away from the beeping and buzzing and blinking lights that came with these spirit searchers.

"If you don't run away I could start a fire, and turn off the light." Blaine tried to make his voice sound as reasonable as possible. "And I could give you some food. Have you ever tried dried cranberries before?" He'd bought them in one of the towns they'd passed. Hard to find, surely, but definitely delicious. Slowly, he let the other's lithe form touch ground. He lifted his hands up so the deerling could see exactly where they were. "I'm curious, that's all."

He felt lighter, finally, like he was able to escape. The thought passed through his mind, though, and he didn't immediately take off again. "I don't..." He stared at the hands the human was holding up. "I have... Well, what about them?" He was speaking of the man's friends, obviously, and their devices and things and the buzzing noises that came with those devices. "I don't want... I mean... I dunno..." He twisted his hair, the beads he had threaded through some of it, and felt his mouth go dry. He couldn't form much more in the way of words after that, so he just nodded. "Fintan." He added quietly.

Blaine lowered his hands slowly, and rested them against his knees. "They'll be gone for a while, all night probably. Chasing those others like you, that you were talking about." He shifted a bit and considered moving to his feet. The light did need to be turned off, as soon as could be, so his guest could feel more comfortable. But he had no wood, and needed to find some ... Blaine smiled a bit, despite all the thoughts whirling through his mind.

Fintan did cut a rather endearing figure. "I'm Blaine." He glanced at the dark forest. "Would you help me find some wood? The sooner that's done, the faster we can start a fire." The human stood with deliberate slowness. He was afraid of startling the deerling.

Fintan nodded and licked his lips to get a bit of moisture back. "Blaine, then." He nodded in greeting, looking around at the immediate area. "I can find some wood. You can go back there... I'll find my way back. It isn't safe to run around in... in the dark. When you don't know your way around." He knew they weren't from around the forest, with the accent and the strange temporary dwellings they had set up. And all that gear. He couldn't imagine carrying it all, let alone knowing how it all worked. he turned his back, picking large sticks and fallen bits of logs off the ground; they were dry since it hadn't rained in days, and the fog was never thick enough for very long to let moisture sink in. "I promise I'll come back." He added when Blaine didn't seem to be going anywhere. "I can just... I can see better." He started piling sticks and branches at the foot of an especially large tree.

Fintan was such a fidgety fellow. Blaine stood still nervously, unsure if the deerling really would go back to the camp. It was nerve wracking really. Now that the threat of remaining alone in the forest loomed before him, he was terrified. When he'd been sitting with his book, things had been alright only because he knew that his friends wouldn't find anything. Now he knew they would, and were probably going to end up outside the forest. Reluctantly, the human nodded and turned on his heel to walk back towards the camp.

The light guided him. Bright as the lantern was, it was near impossible to miss. That didn't stop Blaine from stumbling from time to time, garnering a whole new collection of scratches and bruises.