As night fell, the gnomes of Jansberg where getting ready to leave their ancestral home. Just three nights before their king had died at the hands of the humans, and it had sent a wave of shock and disbelief amongst the gnomes throughout the countryside. Over hill and across river, the verdict was unanimous. This was the final straw; they would leave the humans with whom they shared their lives with. Many gnomes lived in human homes, out of sight, until everyone was sleeping through the night. The family left a plate of food out for the gnomes, and in return they would do their chores. In the morning the whole house was clean, gnomes nowhere to be seen. But things where not always so friendly between the gnomes and humans. Often times the humans thought the quality of the gnome’s jobs was unsatisfactory. They’d leave less food for them, or maybe none at all. They’d pass the blame of their misfortune on them. They’d curse the gnomes. ‘Damn those no good gnomes, always stealing our stuff and eating our food!’. The gnomes responded by pulling ‘pranks’ on them. Sometimes harmless, like misplacing things. Other times more malignant, like leaving marbles on staircases, or dropping bricks from the rafters. Misunderstandings turned to resentment and with both sides unwilling to communicate, tensions rose to boiling. Now the gnomes left in search for a land to call their own. They wanted nothing to do with humans anymore; they didn’t even want to see them, or smell them, or hear them.

Anton stopped and looked back. He had never been this far from home before. He looked at the great dark forest he was about to enter. The longer he looked, the more it looked like a giant maw with long, sharp teeth, ready to swallow him whole. He snapped out of his daydream when his sister called his name from afar, gesturing to hurry up and join the rest of his family. She’d always look out for him, even if they didn’t always see eye to eye. He rejoined the procession of gnomes that slowly crept closer to the forest. They dejectedly plodded along, like a funeral march. The death of a way of life to enter a time of strife. The group consisted of multiple families, all hailing from the same communal gnome mound that was relatively close by. No torches where lit, for gnomes could see fairly well in the dark and they were adverse to prying eyes, especially human ones.

As they entered the forest everything seemed to get quieter. No howling of wind or chirping of birds that stayed up way longer than they should. Anton felt strange. As a gnome he was no stranger to the woods, but this felt different. Like the forest didn’t want them here. Maybe it was just him. He knew he was quick to be on edge. ‘Antsy Anton’ they’d even call him. It didn’t help that he had already heard stories about this place. Some would enter and never be heard from again. It was widely known among the humans. So much so that none would even come close to it or set an axe to its timber. The gnomes chalked it up to superstition by the dim-witted humans. Someone must have gone in there unprepared one day, got lost and they blamed it on the forest instead. It seemed like the perfect place to be far away from mankind.   

They marched for it seemed like hours, and as time passed the air seemed to be getting more and more stagnant. There was no sign of fruit or edible plants, and no stream or river, just endless, tall trees that seemed to be mocking them. Once in a while they stopped and at the front Anton saw some of the elders talking before they set off again. Where they lost? He could not remember the direction they came from. At length they stopped to rest. They had little in the way of food and drink, for they assumed they could forage well enough during the journey, but there was still no sign of game or other food. The elders announced that they would have to ration their supply of food and drink, which made Anton worry all the more. He could not sleep that night, or day? Shouldn’t the sun have come up by now? His mother told him not to worry and trust in the judgment of the elders, and although he appreciated his mother’s attempt at comforting him, it only made him more anxious.

They travelled on, while their food supply steadily dwindled. There was no going back, for it was obvious that they were totally lost. No one seemed to be too concerned though. The judgment of the elders had served them well in the past, and so it remained unchallenged. But the young Anton was wrought with worry. He had barely slept, and he was living in his head while his legs moved automatically. The elders have no idea, he thought. Maybe they shouldn’t have even left the humans in the first place. Could they even survive without their help? Most of their food came from them, and now that they were in a place without food they couldn’t properly support themselves. Was it a bad idea to come here? It sure felt like it. The feeling reminded him of when he was sick, when he wanted to just hurl and be done with it, but it just would not come out. A feeling of extreme, prolonged nausea that would not seize. But instead of being sick himself, he felt like the forest around him was sick, and they were the vomit that just would not come up. So those stories must be true then, of people disappearing. Cursed to wander these woods until they died of thirst or starvation. Where they going to die here? Anton felt hopeless, and in response to this realization his legs stopped working. He thought about his dire fate, and the people he loved. Wait… where were they? He looked around, and saw that he was completely alone. An immediate sense of dread washed over him. He started to run in a random direction and calling for help, hoping to find them, but to no avail. His heart was pounding and he couldn’t feel his legs, but still he kept running. He felt the jaws of the forest slowly close on him, like a predator taking pleasure in killing its prey. Suddenly, he heard a voice call out. He stopped and looked in the direction the voice was coming from. To his surprise he saw a man squatting by a tree. He looked like a human, but his proportions were all wrong, like someone’s interpretation of a human based on only a vague description. Horns like a rams horns sprouted from his head. He slightly raised his old and weary head, and his eyes seemed to look straight through Anton. ‘You are not from here, are you?’ said the man. It took a while for words to form and spill out of Anton’s mouth. ‘N-no, I appear to be lost. Have you perhaps seen a large group of gnomes around here?’ Anton felt like he was being watched not only by the man in front of him but by other things as well. He had trouble breathing. The man took a deep breath. ‘It’s no good  stayin’ here it aint’. No place for moving creatures like you and me. You best be moving towards the mountain. At least you won’t be lost there.’ ‘Mountain?’ asked Anton. ‘What’s that?’ Anton had never seen a mountain before, for he came from the flatlands and gnomes are not known for traveling much. The man chuckled. ‘You really are far from home aren’t you? Well, I’m afraid this will have to be your new home then.’ He pointed towards an opening in the trees that Anton had not seen before. In the distance he saw a lone mountain surrounded by a sea of trees. On the side of the mountain stood a curious looking tower, so tall and thin that it looked like it could snap off at any moment. It reached so high that it reached higher than the mountain itself. Anton didn’t know what to think. The mountain looked very imposing; he didn’t want to go alone. Maybe the mysterious man could help him. ‘Sorry, but can you help-‘. The man had suddenly disappeared when Anton looked back at him. He looked around, but there was no trace of him, but before he felt lonely again he heard some noise behind him. It turned out to be his family who was very happy to see him.

Now the gnomes had found the way to their new home. They named it ‘The Mistlands’, but most people know it by the nickname ‘The Cauldron’ for its bowl-shaped layout. For the years to come they would survive here, under the harsh circumstances the forest imposes on them. They had trapped themselves by their own free will. Luckily, gnomes where always good at adapting to any situation they found themselves in.