A maze.
If this was not some sort of metaphor for the course of Martin's young and mystifying life, the flame-pointed unicorn did not know what could be. He had approached the strange landmark for much the same reasons that infants reach for their reflected image in a mirror, or sharks maim strange primates that foolishly fling themselves into the sea: because he wanted to understand, and because there is no greater engine for understanding than experience.
All the same, the branded boy entered the maze with a prudent helping of caution. Neither charging nor creeping, bolstering his courage with an oft-recited litany against fear, Martin delved through the winding passages and paused only briefly to consult his baser instincts on which direction to turn.
What awaited him beyond the next bend? What wonders - or horrors - did the near-constant rustling and creaking of the hedges in the wind conceal? He would be ready for them, but only because he had no choice. That was the heart of all Martin had ever learned of life.
A great author once put it another way: It's easy, there's a trick to it, you do it or you die.
The sun had set overhead, leaving him only the glistening stars and silver wash of moonlight to illuminate his way through the maze. He would see for himself what secrets it contained.
@Random Events
