[ WP ] `` Looks as if you 've lost your way in this forest . My name is Virgil , and I 'm running a hotel near here . You can stay spend the night at my hotel ... the name of the place ? Inferno ''

Out of the sunset and into the woods walked Sir Percival. His head drooped and his arms sagged. He carried, with tremendous weight, an axe whose head glimmered in the setting sun. The single feather capping his helm also drooped and constantly fell onto his eyes; every few seconds Sir Percival would stop, drop his axe, and remove the feather from his face. Then he would stoop down into the mud again, pick up his axe, and move on. His armour was green with rust, and groaned with frightening loudness in the quiet woods. 
 
 He attempted to stay upon the road that went into the woods, but quickly tread off of it as it was dark. The brambles and branches of the trees entwined with each other so that a roof had formed out of the canopy. There, the birds, snakes, and squirrels of the woods lived and partook in their own, unique, dramas. But Sir Percival was not aware of this, and could only see darkness ahead and around him. So then, he had left the straight way and began to delve into the deep woods. 
 
 He soon apparently came upon a naturally formed crossroad with three ways. At one entrance slept a great she-wolf. At the she-wolf's teats suckled two dozen cubs. They mewled for more milk because the she-wolf did n't have enough. But then she howled and birthed another large litter whom soon began attacking the older cubs so that they could suckle as well. 
 
 At another was a lion. It was busy tearing at a large sack of flesh and was drinking its blood. Its yellow eyes shone in the darkness and roved around its socket like a rabid animal. The lion sniffed, and Sir Percival was clutched with fear. 
 
 At the third entrance was nothing, so then Sir Percival quietly went that way. 
 
 A spectre then materialised by Sir Percival's side. It spoke in the ancient Italian way, but was understandable to the knight. `` I'm Virgil.'' The spectre said, `` I'm sure you're wondering who, or what, I am, but know that I am a friend.'' 
 
 But Sir Percival gripped his axe - destined for the Ash tree's trunk - and remembered the beautiful face of the Witch of the Alder tree. `` Begone from me!'' He shrieked, `` And keep your filthy hands away from me. I will not be distracted once again. My armour will gleam once more.'' 
 
 The spectre chuckled sensibly, `` I take offence. Surely you've heard of the Romans? I am one of them. I merely run a hotel here for all kinds of men: dead and alive. Mayhaps you've heard of such a place?'' 
 
 `` There is no home for dead and living to be together.'' Percival replied. `` Leave me be.'' 
 
 `` But you are tired? And hungry, of course. I have good meats, and my beds are very comfortable. The hotel is in Inferno, did you know?'' 
 
 At this Percival sighed. He finally turned towards the spectre that looked like Virgil, and told it, `` Do you think I'm uneducated because of my armour's shine? I know where Hell is, and I know where Virgil resides. Now leave me be, you thief, you sneak, you leopard!'' 
 
 The spectre wailed and a black essence burst from it. The essence tumbled and twisted until it finally rested upon the forest ground, in front of Sir Percival. The knight stepped back and readied his axe. The black essence snarled and took the terrible form a giant leopard. Its black spots were like pits of darkness, its teeth were cruel knives, and it wound up, ready to pounce, lithe and muscular, prepared to kill. 
 
 It set upon him and growled and roared as it tried to tear apart Sir Percival, but the knight was able to use his axe as a crossguard against the leopard's claws and teeth. He cried out, `` God save me!'' 
 
 Then a sound like thunder came from the North. The noise echoed through the trees and fluttered the leaves like a powerful wind. The bark groaned as the trees tried to tear themselves from the soil and flee from the roaring gallop from the North. It was like a hurricane, fast as lighting, and awe came upon the two fighters in the woods - leopard and knight - when they saw Ruksh, the horse, with his head bowing to the ground and mane sweeping the dust. He came near, and in mute rage first to the one then to the other moved his head, as if enquiring what their battle might mean, and from his dark muzzle was a terrible whinny, and the leopard mewled and scampered off into the night. Sir Percival shivered at the awful horse, because it was beautiful, and simply could not be fearful; and yet, oh, that horse was most terrifying, stamping and snorting, tall as a tower, rival of Sleipnir. 
 
 `` T-thank you.'' Sir Percival muttered. The horse trotted up to the knight and let him hold his head. And from his dark, compassionate eyes, the big warm tears rolled down, and rusted Sir Percival's armour a little bit more. But now the knight's heat was filled with bravery, and the axe no longer seemed a great weight. `` Will you take me to the Ash tree?'' Sir Percival asked, ready to be denied. Ruksh reared into the air in reply, and shot off like a bullet through the trees. This quest was Sir Percival's alone. 
 
 The knight got up. The thick canopy above had become less thick, and the noon shone in. Ahead of Percival was the road he had lost. The knight began his journey, once again. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

