OREGONIA: and the Legend of the Myce

Chapter 1 Daydreamer

A troop of myce rushed the freshly grown acorn, grasping it firmly and lifting with their knees and planting their tails down firmly for support. The still groggy Eli adjusted his leaf cap and ran over to help his myce brethren without question. With their combined strength and a little cunning, they carried the acorn, slowly trudging it back into the borders of the village. They flipped the bulbous nut on its top and immediately went to work, carving it into a cozy little home or a soaring tree lift. While some carved the way, others plucked and decorated the acorn with fresh shamrocks top to bottom, hiding their homes to aerial predators. From the sky, their village looked like an overbearing sea of green, hiding a small world of the myce.

After a rough and early morning, the tired Eli said good day to his friends and made his way up to his favorite spot for a well-deserved midday nap. Eli Spent much of his time up the highest branch of the acorn tree, towering over the village, in the perfect spot from which to gaze at the townsfolk below. He often would lose himself in imagination while listening to the sounds and music of the village and watch them live their simple, peaceful lives from high above. The sun shined bright through the trees, dowsing him in rays of faint light that flickered through the branches and leaves. From above the village, the light dazzled across Cloverfield, like a dance of shimmering lights, breaking just under the water's surface.

"What a perfect day," Eli thought as he laid in his perfect spot, soaking in the warm light, breathing in Mother Nature's fresh spring air of early March, still a bit of chill in the air from February. "What's that?" he wondered aloud. Eli noticed something stirring through the busy streets below. Eli had all but forgotten that the village folk were preparing the town for a celebration that only comes once a year when the clovers are their greenest: The Shamrock Festival.

Eli ran as fast as he could along the etched, barren path he had made over the years with his constant scaling of the familiar tree, scurrying down to assist in the preparation of the seasonal festival. Running through the dirt-paved paths on all fours, myce all around with friendly, familiar faces would greet him a good day as he sped through the village. The village of Cloverfield was alive with music, bards singing, children playing, myce conversing, and merriment all around. Myce would share stories of their adventures outside of the village; even some traveling outside of the realm into the once crowded human cities that now lay in waste, devoid of life, but full of wonder and mystery. The shop keeps, local and foreign, cried out in excitement as myce walked by, selling trinkets from the forest and peculiar scraps of food, ranging from exquisite to questionable. They even sold relics from the old human world, relics consisting of robes fashioned from human clothes, gemstones from forgotten human jewelry, and many strange electronic devices that had long lost their power. To the villagers, many of these quirks were why Cloverfield was the best place in all of Oregonia.

Scurrying about the village, Eli was approaching his mother's acorn house as she was gathering dew, dripping from a leaf. "You're late, son," Eli's mother, Daisy, exclaimed in her most motherly of tones, which also sounded suspiciously condescending.

"I know, mom," Eli replied, chuckling under his breath as she pointed out the obvious.

"Wait," said Daisy, stepping in front of Eli, holding a cloth bag. Eli stopped, dragging his feet and tail in the dirt.

"Yesss?" Eli dragged.

"Hey, watch the sass," his mother warned. "I gathered food for your father and his friends, would you give it to them, please?" she asked, handing him the bag.

"No problem, mom," he grabbed the bag, grinning, and hugging his mother.

She patted him on the face, gently and warmly. "Thank you, son, go on then and have a good time."