Where he stepped in the loamy floor of the wood, he left no imprint. When he passed a curtain of leaves they did not sway at his passing. When he stepped in a puddle the water did not give way. He existed, but the world was utterly unchanged for it. At this he felt great sorrow. As he pondered that, beasts began to fill the world. Not creatures that belonged to the forest, but vile creatures charged with an energy that he felt was entirely at odds with the world around him. He did not fear them, but neither did they. For every one he slew, another one appeared. Again, he could not change the world around him. As he pondered this, 2 creatures appeared beside him. One was not like him, a companion from the world beyond the Dream, though its shape was indistinct, undefined. The other was like him, pale green of colour. It handed him something, a curved length of wood and vine. The Dream gave it a name for him. A bow. When he held it, it was like there were 2 of the one like him. One beside him, and one in his grip. With the bow in his hand, the creatures not of the forest were no longer fearless. When he slew them, no more appeared. The world was changed. He took a step forward, and the water in the puddle rippled at his passing. He took another step, and a branch swayed at his passing. Pausing to look behind himself, he saw that he had left imprints in the loamy floor, and he was glad. Now he could change the world around him. He turned back to the 2 creatures left around him. He wondered who or what they were, the question unsaid but understood. The one not like him did not know, so did not answer. The one like him answered with one word.
Dohar awoke slowly, his knees up to his chin while his arms were wrapped around his knees. He was lying on an open flower, the golden petals unfolded. Watching the horizon he could tell that he was being lowered to the ground. Slowly sitting up, he could see a throng of sylvari like him assembling below him. A few other flowers in various states of opening were also descending. He was glad to see he would not be the only to wake up this day. He tried to stand up, but his legs would not quite support him. He could still feel the sap flowing through him, slowly waking his body that had been dormant during the long Dream. It was a most peculiar feeling. He could hear voices below him, voices belonging to creatures like himself. As he descended, the sunlight streaming through the forest canopy quickened the sap in his limbs, and he found that he could stand, however unsteadily, by the time the petals of his flower touched the soil. His fellow sylvari gathered around him, though they kept a respectful distance. Dressed in leaves, fronds and flowers, as well as textiles and leathers from beyond the forest, they were a riot of colours. One stepped forward, more armoured than dressed in sheets of bark and vines. Atop her blue-skinned head was a head-dress of thorny branches, with a bright red flower almost encased in the middle like a jewel of the forest.
“Ah, one who stands. Excellent. Do you yet have a name?”
He replied before he consciously knew the answer.