In the depths if an unknown forest.

A carriage is moving through the off-beaten road.

The pouring rain mysteriously stopped before reaching the roof of the carriage and slid off an invisible barrier.

The densely congested forest proved no effort for the wide carriage to pass — the tree trunks bent in mysterious ways, as if they were not hard wood but were made of fine silk instead.

A lightning streak passed by, temporarily illuminating a Crest — of an Ash Tree with borders the shape of a flame — indented into the wood of the carriage. It's subtle and slightly concealed such that one wouldn't notice unless they were really paying attention to such thing from the start.

The carriage driver pulled his hat further down with one hand, despite him not getting drenched from the rain nor getting inundated with the passing wind.

Another streak of lightning revealed his long ears and slightly greying brown hair.

With aged hands, he controlled the carriage with poise and years of experience, leaving behind no trace of him ever being here — the trees bent back, the tracks got covered, and the rain drenched the place.

The only proof of him ever being here was in the memory of the baby in the carriage, laying calmly on his back and observing through the windows the passing scenery. The subtle going of knowledge and understanding in his eyes betrayed his physical appearance.

He lifted his hands, looked at them, then felt for his ears — long and pointed. Heaving a sigh, the baby continued his silent observation if his situation, alone in the carriage with no one and nothing to interrupt whatever he's thinking with those curiously intelligent eyes.