The forest was an ancient, primeval and powerful place that stood silently resolute at the borderlands between the sterile realm of Humanity’s reality and the wondrous land of probabilities that was home to the Otherkind.
Beneath the sun-dappled canopy, the young elf made his way forward, the sinewy grace and instinctive forest craft of his sylvan forebears moving him steadily further and further away from the steadfast security of the Enclave.
For countless generations, the young males of his kind had undergone this rite of passage and he was absolutely determined to not have his name listed in the ignominious company of those few that had failed to complete the challenge successfully.
His progress slowed as he noted ever fewer of the woodland creatures he was accustomed to and increasing evidence that some other sort of wildlife called this eerie woodland expanse home.
Between one step and the next, he experienced the disconcerting dizziness said to signify the Crossing and knew, beyond question, he had just made the far more daunting transition from the safety of youth into the less certain embrace of manhood.
This story was written for the weekly Five Sentence Fiction prompt: charmed.