George was a roguish fellow. No matter how many hills climbed or forests traveled, his deepest yearnings were never satisfied. In his hand, a stout limb of a forgotten ash, felled many years ago by the villagers of a long ago town. He, a young boy at the time, had snatched a branch from a spare pile, shaded by noontide shadows. This steady companion of his had stuck with him, the two inseparable. However, only George thought it this way as there were no others who he frequented with enough to let on any sort of pattern.
When the leaves rustled overhead, George froze. He shook his head and sighed deeply, some habits from the war could never be lost. A small bluejay alighted on a boulder ahead. As George's eye narrowed to make out its bright form, he found the jay staring right back at him. Its little beak slowly opened, releasing a roar that shook the trunks of the trees, echoing in George's head. He raised his head and saw, nothing. The boulder and jay were but an illusion.
Not too far away, just outside the wood, huddled a cloaked figure, making his way through the tall prairie grass. His earth-colored cloak made the blades of grass swish and sway, leaving a trail quickly covered. The door creaked as he stepped into his humble shack, his eyes adjusting to the candle lit room that the treasures of life resided in. Sam was a collector, he found sweetest delight in finding lost works of great craftsmanship. His little journeys were the spice of life, every artifact finding home on his shelves and tables. On the mantle of his fireplace, a pair of spectacles, inscribed on it in small letters was this: CORBO. Sam had always wondered what great man this armament once belonged to - perhaps a scholar like himself, or a rugged elder, whose eyes had grown old from age, but the one thing he couldn't understand was why someone had just left them there, almost purposefully, on an ancient pillar from times past. On his desk was a small book detailed with the various tracks of creatures known and unknown. It was a labor or love, that much was evident. Next to the book of tracks stood a small jay carved of soapstone. It was dyed blue, as if to deliver the illusion that a real miniature bluejay was in fact perched on the desk. Truly a wonderful piece of craftsmanship. It was not long ago when he first found the jay - it was just a few seasons back.
Sam was exploring far south, specifically an unexplored bit of forest that he had managed to miss on his last mapping run. Slightly confused to why he had forgotten this random smudge, he had traveled for a good day to reach this area. Only minutes into exploring, he saw a structure ahead. Sam stopped, this could of been some ruin - what luck to find this! However, traps were certain, so he tread carefully through the brush. Before him was some sort of obelisk, almost twice or thrice his height, its sides perfectly flat, only interrupted by cryptic symbols - some script of sorts. At the top, a little bird, perched upon this sizable object as if it ruled over the land, caught Sam's eye. What a find! His nimble limbs flew as he climbed a nearby tree, gently plucking the bird and setting it in burlap bag. He transcribed the symbols onto spare canvas, a riddle to be solved back home for sure. The sun set on a happy man, returning to his wonderful house, laden with a prize to make anyone envious.
His dog, Gabby, nuzzled up to him. She was always faithful, guarding the house, sometimes finding Sam when he had left for too long just to make sure he was alright. Sam patted her, they both were getting old, but life was still generous enough to provide. He looked at the bird again, remembering one thing that had happened after he returned from his fateful trip.
He had immediately rushed over to his map, prepared to remedy the reason for his voyage. But as he looked, he could not find the blank spot. He knew well every step of forest and field mapped, but could not relocate the smudge of void. He slowly opened the burlap bag and felt the bird in his hands - where did he really go, and where did this thing come from.