Nicholas frowned as he watched the others in his tribe scamper through the meadows toward the forest. He looked over his shoulder and bit his lip. The village was growing. All the villages were growing. They’d moved from their homes when their last foret home had been destroyed to make way for a village and the farms that surrounded it. The same story would play out here. They needed to adapt… to change.

If they refused to change, their homes would be gone. Soon they would have nowhere to move to. Their population wasn’t changing any; if anything it was growing. Some of his people advocated fighting back. However, Nicholas argued that the other beings – the ones that lived in the villages – didn’t know they existed. If only they knew, perhaps they wouldn’t be so fast to destroy the forests the fauns called home.

He turned toward the village. It was time to drop the seeming and appear as a faun, not a ling. He was a little afraid. How would the lings and eldar react to seeing him. Some felt his people were demonic the first time they saw them. He might use the seeming sometimes, but he’d meet them as himself. He knew it might take a while before he found a village that would accept him, but the journey wouldn’t begin until he started down the road.