You knock, gently at first. You've come, not knowing quite what you seek, but answers. You knock upon a strong oaken door, set into the hollow of an ancient tree. Vines crawl over the dead abode, and soft lilacs glow in the moonlight. This is not what you expected. This looks like the average forest dweller's home to you. A lingering moment passes as if an eternity in the shadows of the evening. Ominous breezes waft and ruffle at your fur, a chill sent to the delicate fur at your ears. Just as silence invades your senses, threatens to tear the sanity from your mind, soft footsteps can be heard just on the other side of that foreboding portal. What could be there, you wonder? An old hag, with sandpaper for a voice, or perhaps you were tricked into coming here, and a quiet death waits at the other side. You hear the faintest of drags of claw upon the door, and for but a moment, your worst fears are confirmed. As the portal clicks and creaks open, you at first look away, as if hoping not to see your fate; and yet, there within the dark a shimmer of silver dances before your fearful eyes. It is a tail. Short, stubby digits grip at the door before a ragged-furred silver ear pops out. This follows shortly by a muss of disheveled golden hair. Taken aback by the unexpected results, your eyes flutter in astonishment. Why, this is no hag, no demon, naught but a waif. A breath rushes from your lungs with the relief of it all. Hiding behind the door, the short object finally pokes one dazzling blue eye from the safety of the wood, and a rather irate voice barks, "Who the fuck knocks on someone's door this evening?" Well! Indignation marks your features, "I...I was told to find you to seek answers, Milady. I seek purpose for my life." With a shrewd gaze, the short, indignant female grunts out with appalling indignity, "The purpose of life is to live it as long as you can without knocking on my door again. You got the wrong door, dumb ass. The old bitch lives down the way a bit, through the forest." You nod sagely. Yes, this could not possibly be the person you were seeking. Though thoroughly disappointed, and a bit embarrassed at having awoken a complete stranger from her beauty rest, you nod, and turn to make your leave. As you turn, the figure slips from her hiding place, the movement catching your eye. From but the corner you see this figure, her aura a misty white in the gleam of the moon. Eyes, half hidden by the veil of disheveled headfur, show a certain amount of disappointment to them, and you know not why. The figure leans upon the frame of her doorway, and makes a last idle comment, "You know, there are no easy answers. If you keep looking for purpose, you'll never find it because you're too busy looking. It's seeking you, waiting for the right time to show itself. Live, and purpose will find you." What a strange statement by a strange girl. You hear the door slam behind you, and down the path, you finally stop to give one more glance back. There, behind you, there is no door, no ancient tree, no proof that what just happened was real. Perhaps you have traveled too far this day. You lay down to rest, thinking the forest is playing tricks on you. Or is it?