The Stories of Beyond the Tree: A Bolt Saga, with a Little Help
All is fine at the house, another peaceful day, until Bolt and his friends are blown beyond imagination itself, and must use the help of an old trickster, who calls himself– or is it herself– a phooka. Can Bolt, Mittens, Rhino and Penny find their way back to their own reality? And is this phooka so honest as they think? Rated T to be safe.
Disclaimer: This is my FIRST fanfiction, so please excuse me if there is anything wrong with it. I do not own several of the characters. In fact, I truthfully (and for now) only own my own character, me.
Chapter 1: Something Stirring
As the sun rose that morning, there was a feeling that something was wrong in the air. The sun, which was shining brightly, had a certain tinge to it that did not really seem natural. But then again, what was natural here?
The Connector got up and yawned, in his nest in the highest branches of a tree, deep within the mountains. He was, all in all, a phooka, a shapeshifter, translator, and mischief-maker extraordinaire, beyond which you can guess what he was. His fur, ruffling in the early morning wind, was midnight black, so dark that black itself seemed pretty light-colored compared. He was slightly humanoid, except that his arms and legs seemed to have two joints between shoulder and wrist/hip and ankle. His head, with an extra set of ears and several smaller eyes in addition to the original ones, was also dark, and shaped like a rabbit's head. His face itself was rather unremarkable, a dog's nose, a human nasal complexion, all the usual things. The only true difference to any creature was that where his yes would by rights be, there were, instead, two balls of golden and blue light. And in the centre, a round black dot dominated.
The phooka yawned, scratched himself, and then sat back and let his mind do the getting of food for him. You see, in the 154 years he had lived, he had learned that his mind could go to any possible point in the collection of multiverses that flew around the tiny range of rock pillars he called his home. He wondered where he would go next.
There was a flurry of ideas, beings, thoughts, reflections, dreams, worlds, and other things, in the sky right above the phooka's lair, quite clear in ultraviolet, infrared, and the most precious color of all, Yellow Extreme. The mountains in which he lived were actually solid pillars of fact itself, more precious than anything you would care to name, in a flurry of worlds that might exist. He was the custodian of this place, the sole occupant, the god, perhaps. All he had to do was go and look at his worlds for company, as due to the knowledge there was everything else in his home, he had everything else. Simple enough if you knew how.
Today, something caught his eye. There was a small world out there, with only a hundred and twenty or so outlets of reality. It focused around a girl named Penny–rather poor parents, he gathered–, a dog named Bolt, a cat named–Come on, it's in here, he thought–Gloves, and–a hamster named Rhino? Weird, but worth the effort, he considered. This could be the gold mine he was looking for.
He was getting pretty lonely up here. Sure, he had universes flying by him, but it wasn't quite the same as having a real friend. Surely he could meet a few people that might just do the trick.
He jumped.
§Author's Note: I will write when I can. I will truly appreciate it if you review.§