The boy squinted into the sunshine until his eyes adjusted. He stood in the opening of his now-home, shivering in the chill morning air and cataloging his surroundings with wide eyes. He marveled at the size of the Great Tree, the infinite blue skies above, and the busyness of morning life in Hidden Hollow. "Hello, little one," Priscilla, the ladybug said, sitting on a crooked post in front of his acorn. "It's nice to finally meet you." The boy knew her voice, he'd heard it through his walls many times, but he was shy and merely smiled in return. "What is your name?" Priscilla asked. He blinked up at her for a moment, then picked up a nearby branch and wrote his answer in the soil. Huh? Priscilla thought. Well, he's an odd one. Vagus turned out to be a curious mind and an apt student, though a terribly quiet one. He stepped into the flow of his village quickly, helping in whatever ways were needed and never complaining or shrugging off any of his duties. He was well-liked in Hidden Hollow, yet his free time was nearly always spent alone - reading, writing in his notebooks, or simply pondering. His people, kind as they may be, were people of the here and now. Their curiosities were small and easily satisfied and their interest in the outside world was minimal. Some dabbled in trade between villages, but even that was infrequent. Vagus, on the other hand, had a genuine fondness for questions. It was an awkward pairing for someone so shy. Whenever he wondered aloud, he was typically met with confusion from his peers. "Everything we need is here," they'd say. "What does it matter what the rest of the world does?" He had no answer, but the questions persisted regardless. So like all those whose nature is misunderstood, he quickly learned to keep his musings to himself. Unless Priscilla had time to visit. She, it turned out, enjoyed ideas as much as he did. Whenever she could manage it, she would bring him scraps of acorns from other villages to ingest. He would eat them carefully, his eyes glazing over, and then he'd tell her about all the information and stories they contained. She enjoyed these discussions greatly. It was the only time she'd see him so free with his words, and his enthusiasm for knowledge was infectious. On nights where sleep was difficult to come by, Vagus would sit alone atop the wall surrounding the village, not quite daring to climb over. He savored the feel of the unknown and the wildness it lent his imagination. He would speculate in his notebooks, filling pages with drawings and writings of what he imagined might be out there. And some nights Priscilla would join him, and Vagus was always pleased when she did. They could share silence as easily as conversation, and that suited him perfectly. And for a long time, that simple routine was enough. Until, after a very particular dream, it wasn't.🏁

The boy squinted into the sunshine until his eyes adjusted. He stood in the opening of his now-home, shivering in the chill morning air and cataloging his surroundings with wide eyes. He marveled at the size of the Great Tree, the infinite blue skies above, and the busyness of morning life in Hidden Hollow. "Hello, little one," Priscilla, the ladybug said, sitting on a crooked post in front of his acorn. "It's nice to finally meet you." The boy knew her voice, he'd heard it through his walls many times, but he was shy and merely smiled in return. "What is your name?" Priscilla asked. He blinked up at her for a moment, then picked up a nearby branch and wrote his answer in the soil. Huh? Priscilla thought. Well, he's an odd one. Vagus turned out to be a curious mind and an apt student, though a terribly quiet one. He stepped into the flow of his village quickly, helping in whatever ways were needed and never complaining or shrugging off any of his duties. He was well-liked in Hidden Hollow, yet his free time was nearly always spent alone - reading, writing in his notebooks, or simply pondering. His people, kind as they may be, were people of the here and now. Their curiosities were small and easily satisfied and their interest in the outside world was minimal. Some dabbled in trade between villages, but even that was infrequent. Vagus, on the other hand, had a genuine fondness for questions. It was an awkward pairing for someone so shy. Whenever he wondered aloud, he was typically met with confusion from his peers. "Everything we need is here," they'd say. "What does it matter what the rest of the world does?" He had no answer, but the questions persisted regardless. So like all those whose nature is misunderstood, he quickly learned to keep his musings to himself. Unless Priscilla had time to visit. She, it turned out, enjoyed ideas as much as he did. Whenever she could manage it, she would bring him scraps of acorns from other villages to ingest. He would eat them carefully, his eyes glazing over, and then he'd tell her about all the information and stories they contained. She enjoyed these discussions greatly. It was the only time she'd see him so free with his words, and his enthusiasm for knowledge was infectious. On nights where sleep was difficult to come by, Vagus would sit alone atop the wall surrounding the village, not quite daring to climb over. He savored the feel of the unknown and the wildness it lent his imagination. He would speculate in his notebooks, filling pages with drawings and writings of what he imagined might be out there. And some nights Priscilla would join him, and Vagus was always pleased when she did. They could share silence as easily as conversation, and that suited him perfectly. And for a long time, that simple routine was enough. Until, after a very particular dream, it wasn't.🏁