The woods were dark. The closest of the great tree trunks reflected little of the campfire’s light and long shadows reached toward the midnight sky. Darkness as black and eternal as the ocean swelled around the tiny island of the camp.

Seven of us huddled around the burning logs, not so much for warmth but for the company, to be reassured that we were not alone. To keep the analogy, we were a school of fish gathered for survival. It was the oldest of rules- safety in numbers.

At the same time we were here because we were willing to brave the dark, to show that we would not just live in fear of the forest, or it’s unholy king. We were the youngest, the most fearless… and the most foolish. Where other kids were in bed asleep, safe with their families, we had snuck out into the cold and made camp where none dared to tread, especially at night. We thought we’d only risked our parent’s displeasure, but we risked far more than that.

As the fire died down, I began.

“Let me tell you of the dread Forest King.”