The sun was warm and the scent of honey tickled at my whiskers. It was a great day to eat outside, and she even had time to come with me while I did it. My name's Trevor, and this is my story, or at least one of them. I'll fill you in as we go, if you don't mind. Her name is Christie, and she's my girl, and I'm her boy. We've been courting on and off for a year and I think we're in it for the long run, if you know what I mean.

    If you don't mind my saying, we're a good match, what with us both being good examples of mice. She has brown spots on black fur, a dark pattern. I have light grey spots on white fur, a light pattern. It's a perfect match, not that you asked me, but there it is. Today you couldn't see too much of her fur, since she was dressed in a bright yellow sundress and a rather flowery looking hat. We were about half a mile from Firmament's gates. That's where we live, Firmament, nice place really.

    "You look like you're plotting something," she said to me. I denied it, but she always knew me better than I gave her credit for. I was plotting something. My hand fidgeted with the small box in my pocket as we walked along. My other hand held hers and we half skipped down the trail to this nice little grassy spot we favored for nice days like this. Away from the city and its crowds and criminals. This stretch of road was well patrolled and safe, and mostly empty. Just me, and her, and that's how I wanted it.

    I helped her set out the blanket and made an excuse about going to fetch water. Running off into the bushes a small distance off, I pulled the box from my pocket. I just had to look. I pried it open and peeked. The glint of precious gemstone shined back at me. The ring was still there. I tucked the box away, caressing its soft contours as I did so. Today would be a special day. I hurried back towards the clearing.

    As I emerged from the underbrush, I heard something else clearing the shrubbery. A glance showed a purple hart. Big creatures, with long sharp horns and thin legs. As purple as their name. Usually harmless if you didn't provoke them. This one looked a little different than the others. Bits of shadow seemed to leak from its eyes and puffed up from the ground with each step. It was trouble. I could feel it echoing through my bones. Without thinking, I charged the thing, but it had another target.

    It became a race. The hart had lowered its head, pointing with those sharp horns at my beloved. I called out as I trailed behind the stampeding beast. Christie looked up at my voice, then shrieked in surprise at the angry hart charging at her. I hadn't brought any weapon but a small dagger. It felt as if I was naked and helpless, but I ran anyway, hopelessly trying to catch up to the enraged thing.

    Christie was not as defenseless as I was. With a sudden invocation of the sacred math, she pushed a hand forward. A dazzling disc of numbers and patterns swirled in the air before her in time to receive the hart's charge. Its antlers pierced, but its head did not. The shield crackled fitfully, sparking and glowing in a seeming agony as the hart struggled against its grip. I ran right past it, grabbing Christie and running with her away from it. She was wet.

    Looking down, I could see blood across her side where its horn had struck her on the mark. "Creators perserve!" I called out, reaching down to hoist her feet off the ground and run with her in arms. I think she thanked me, but I wasn't listening very well. She was unconcious moments after, a dead weight in my arms.

    Perhaps due to her being asleep, or just exerting whatever energy she had put in it, the disc shattered behind me, and the hart bellowed in an angry triumph, charging after the both of us. There was no good cover to be had in a quick glance, so I opted to go down. I ducked down a bank down towards the road, letting Christie go as we reached the bottom. With a quick stance and a punch into the ground, the earth parted with a low rumbling thunder. I grabbed for Christie and hauled her, half dragging her into the makeshift shelter.

    The hart was on us just moments later, trampling and kicking. All became dark as the hole collapsed around us. But we weren't bludgeoned to death, so I was thankful for that. Its fury vented, the trampling slowed, then stopped. I dared not breath, could barely even when I tried. I just held her close and waited for what felt like forever before I dared to move a muscle. The dirt around us was loosely packed. I wriggled upwards until we broke into the air. I checked Christie first. Still breathing, but not awake. I hoisted her up onto shoulder, and started back towards town.

    The guards looked at me quite oddly. I was a mess. Dirty, disheveled, and with an unconscious female on my shoulder that was bleeding with a torn up dress. I'd look at me oddly too. They took me directly to a doctor though. The priest doctor focused on Christie, leaving me in the front room by myself to sit and stew. As I sat, something jabbed lightly into my leg. I dug out the object and found the box from before. It had survived the ruckus largely intact. I pulled it open, gazing at the ring inside, but it didn't feel as important anymore. I should have just given it to her in the town square, maybe at church, that would have been nice. We didn't need to go tromping outside just for romance.

    The priest came in about half an hour later. "She is alive,"  he started.

    I didn't like that start. "What's wrong with her?" I asked.

    "What gave her that wound?"

    "A purple hart."

    "Just a hart? Was there anything unusual about it?" he asked as if he already knew the answer to the question.

    "It was a little shadowy?" I ventured, "Like, here," I gestured at my eyes, then down at my feet, "It wasn't a shadow though." Shadows are hard to miss, being living, roiling, masses of horrible shadow being. "They don't possess animals, do they?"

    "Perhaps," he said, "But it has taken root in your friend. She is ill."

    "Ill? Will she get better? What does she need?"

    "She needs rest, and care, and hopefully she will get better on her own."

    "Hopefully? You're not sure?"

    "Never seen this kind of sickness before, I'm afraid. Only the Creators could know for sure." He patted me on the shoulder, and moved past to leave, "If you need help, or just someone to talk to, let us know," he said, and was gone.

    I sat back down and did little but make a mess for a while. I felt a hand on my shoulder again. Had the priest returned. I looked up into the eyes of a cat. She had the seal of a Graceful Folk clan on her shoulder. She was wearing priest's robes. "I have to speak to you," she said, "About your friend. I have an idea."

    I was Graceful Folk as well. I felt a kinship with the stranger at an instant. Clans are like family. I nodded at her, "What idea? You know how to help her?" Christie was not Graceful Folk, she was Small Folk, like many mice. It didn't stop me from loving her though. Family and love do not always run on the same channels.

    "I think I can, with some help," she said, then offered a hand, "I'm Patty. I've been studying the shadows for a long time now, unlike Reggie."

    I took her hand and shook it lightly as I slipped up to my feet, "Nice to meet you, Patty. So what do you know?"

    "I know," she said as she started to dust me off. The dirt of our escape still clung to my clothes, and she seemed content to take some time removing it from me as she spoke, "That what you ran into is what I call 'Shadow Touched'. The influence of the shadows spreads a little over time, and some things are starting to show little bits of taint from it. The hart was mad, driven insane by the shadow taint in it."

    I let her fuss over my clothes. I didn't care much for them at the moment, "Alright, so it was a shadow touched hart. Why is Christie sick then?"

    She tapped my nose lightly, "Think. It's about the shadow. The hart was sick in the head, it stabbed your friend, now she's sick in the body. We have to get the shadow out of her, and she'll get better."

    I wiggled my nose, whiskers going askew, "That sounds sensible enough, but you haven't gotten to the how of it."

    "That's where it gets tricky," she admitted with a last patting of my legs. I was almost presentable again. "We're going to have to go up into the Silvervein mountains and retrieve a plant that grows there. The locals don't pick it, superstitions about bad luck. But I think having your friend die is as bad as luck gets, don't you?"

    I nodded fiercely at her and squeezed her hand, "Then we should do this. I mean, I can do this. You've already been so helpful, just tell me what it looks like."

    She was taller than me, and took advantage of it to muss up my hair, "You're not the only soulless in the room," she said, "I can defend myself just fine." She reached into her priestly garbs and drew out a glittering pendant with one central and glowing gem and many smaller, fine, crystals. A soul pendant. I had one under my own shirt, housing my borrowed souls and tricks, like the one that made the hole we hid in earlier in the day.

    "Well, alright..." I admitted. Soulless were certainly not defenseless, not with the right crystals. "If you are sure you want to. When do we go?"

    She flashed a bright smile of feline teeth, "Tomorrow, noon. I'll have supplies and a wagon for us at the gate. So you meet me there."

    And so my travels began.