He had been up all night each night for the past several weeks trying to reason out what had happened to the Howling Forest.

Decending from the Star Cloister to found his own cloister, Yisipu chose the Howling Forest. For all that it appeared dangerous and creepy, the creatures within were mostly harmless. The bark trolls - gnarled giants and giantesses who resembled decrepid trees - merely reveled in their mischief of moving when no other creature was looking. This led to disorientation on the part of any creature not familar with the forest.

All in all, nothing terribly threatening. And seldom visited. The perfect place for his Cloister of Reason.

But it didn’t exist. And no-one seemed to remember it.

Yisipu tried to reason with his own followers in their ignorance. He had seen it fade with his very eyes, he’d insisted. But they had been trailing and had only come round the bend in time to find Yisipu staring in wonder at the Glass Tower of Eribo. They were aware that they were not meaning to arrive at the Glass Tower, but they could not remember where it was that they were heading to. And, they insisted, the Glass Tower of Eirbo was as good a place for their cloister as any. Better than any, in fact, since the inhabitants of that region caught and stored starlight.

The little creatures welcomed Yisipu and his small band of followers with open arms. Having decended from the stars, Yisipu was nearly a religious figure to these starlight artisians. But they lost their reverence when they discovered that even Yisipu didn’t know the mysterious purpose of the wonderfully intricate and decorative objects the Eribites made from starlight. But they allowed him and his few followers to reside in their tower regardless.

And there Yisipu had been sitting awake since, pondering the fate of the Howling Forest. Presently, his gaze - as it had often been these past several weeks - was upon the stars. The tower, being entirely transparent, provided an astonishing panoramic view of the heavens. And there Yisipu longing looked, wishing he had never left home.

Ghigam, the Star Cloister, had been home for as long as he remembered. He had been one of the Three Deep Thinkers there, a Superior of the Monks of Knowlege. Even to be admited into the Star Cloister as a mere monk, one must face excruciating examinations. The Monks of Knowlege, then, were by far some of the most intelligent persons in Fantasia. And their superiors, the Three Deep Thinkers, were intelligent beyond comprehension. But for all their intelligence, they let a simple difference of opinion shatter their community. Each of the Three Deep Thinkers sought to found their own cloister, each taking with them the few loyal monks who hadn’t lost faith in their superiors after the breakup.

Certainly not the best way to begin a new cloister,Yisipu thought up at the stars.

And then his fox jaw dropped in surprise.

Something was falling at him from the heavens.

At first Yisipu reasoned that it was a shooting star. It was glowing white and seemed to have a tail of light trailing behind. But then the Son of Reason remembered that shooting stars were not actually stars that were falling, but other spacial bodies such as meteors. Also, as the thing plummeted closer, Yisipu saw that the ‘tail of light’ was an actual tail, a tail attatched to an enlongated body of a gleaming white dragon.

Perched up near the dragon’s lionlike head sat a figure whose purple-red cloak and blue-black hair whipped wildly in the wind. He was crouched down low. Clearly the man understood aerodynamics, Yisipu smiled.

As the pair neared, Yisipu saw with his clever fox eyes that the young man was a Greenskin from the Grassy Ocean. In fact, he looked familiar . . . Had he been a Monk of Knowlege at Ghigam? Yisipu pondered that possibility as the two landed gracefully just outside the Glass Tower of Eribo.

The tower being glass-like (Yisipu reasoned long ago that the ‘glass tower’ was clearly constructed from starlight) allowed the fox-headed Thinker to observe the young man’s dismount, wait at the door, and spiraling trek - following the Eribite - up to Yisipu’s room.

All the while Yisipu tried to remember where he knew the young man from. The glass-like creature (Yisipu had reasoned more recently that Eribites themselves were made of starlight) rapped on the glass-like door of the glass-like room. Yisipu called, ‘Enter!’ and observed the Eribite enter and shut the door behind himself, leaving the Greenskin on the other side to announce him. ‘Atreyu, of the Grassy Ocean to see Your- Your . . . Thinkership?’ Its little voice turned up in question at the end, still uncertain as to the proper title for the Deep Thinker.

‘I can clearly see him through the door myself,’ Yisipu reasoned, smiling a wry smile.

The glass-like creature flinched at the sight of Yisipu’s many sharp teeth, mistaking the fox smile for a frightening snarl of annoyance. He backed up to the door and opened it, allowing Atreyu entry.

Were the Greenskin any other young man, he might have thought twice about entering into a room with a snarling-seeming fox-headed creature. But in his short twenty-two years, this young man had experienced more amazing and frightening things than twenty-two other men combined.

‘You came to the Star Cloister as a Diciple of the Great Knower a decade ago.’ The memory finally came to Yisipu the instant he spoke it.

‘I am a friend of Bastian’s,’ Atreyu nodded.

Bastian cocooned tighter within the thick blanket and grinned wider than he had in the entire past decade. That the Greenskin still considered him a friend filled Bastian with a warmth even beyond his own imagination.

Atreyu had been the closest friend Bastian had ever known, regardless of the short time they had spent together. When Bastian had returned from Fantasia, it had taken some time to realize how dearly he’d missed Atreyu. And when at last he had realized that he wouldn’t be able to return and see his best friend . . . it was nearly like losing him to death. Worse, even, since Atreyu was alive and well, and the slightest possibility of reconnecting remained - but remained beyond Bastian’s reach.

But now it might somehow be possible, he thought with anxious anticipation.

A wonderful lightness of mood came over Bastian as he returned lovingly to the book.

‘Bastian?’ Yisipu narrowed his fox eyes.

‘Yes, Bastian Balthasar Bux,’ Atreyu said, folding his arms across his bare chest. Most Greenskins wore only leather trousers and a cloak when out in the night. The Grassy Ocean usually provided warm, pleasant weather during the day, but night tended to be cold while out hunting the Purple Buffalo.

‘Strange,’ Yisipu mused looking to his feet, ‘I thought the Great Knower’s name was . . . something else.’

Bastian frowned, a bit hurt Yisipu couldn’t remember his name. But, he thought, it had been a decade. There surely was a lot that Bastian had forgotten in ten years.

Atreyu stood firm, uncertain what to make of the situation. If the Deep Thinker couldn’t even remember Bastian’s name, how could the Greenskin expect the Son of Reason to know the answer to his plight?

Yisipu returned from his thoughts and found the Greenskin patiently waiting. 'Why is it you seek me?'

'I have traveled to Morla, the Ancient One, and found her - and all her Swamps of Sadness - missing.

'So I ventured to the Star Cloister and found it not missing, but deserted. I inquired throughout Fantasia and found that Ghigam had fragmented. No-one knew for sure where it was that you Three Deep Thinkers had taken your followers, but rumor had it you took yours to set up a cloister in the Howling Forest . . . which I hurried to and found missing as well.

'But as luck would have it' - Atreyu looked through the several panes of glass down to the luckdragon - 'I chanced upon a wandering Eribite who informed me that your coister now resided within the Glass Tower of Eribo.

'What happened to Morla and to the Star Cloister?'

Yisipu eyed the Greenskin in wonder at all he had said, suspecting the young man was as surprised he had said as much as well. 'I know not of your Morla. But as to the Star Cloister, that is easily explained. When the Great Knower, B- . . . B-'

'Bastian,' Atreyu supplied, agitated.

'Mmm, yes. When the Great Knower, B- Bastian, showed us the vision wherein rested The Neverending Story I saw a fox. My fellow Deep Thinkers saw an owl and eagle respectively. We could not come to agreement as to which of us saw correctly. We three Thinkers had never before been in disagreement, so we had little other option but to go our seperate ways. I am uncertain where Shirkry chose to found his cloister, as he took his followers and flew away immediately. But I do know that Ushtu took her followers to the jungle temple of Muwamath. Rather, she intended to. With the state of things, much is left uncertain.' Yisipu's fox head lifted to gaze out into the stars.

It seemed impossible to Atreyu that the Son of Reason had never heard of Morla, the Ancient One. Certainly Atreyu hadn't known of Morla before leaving the Grassy Ocean for the first time, but the Deep Thinker was one of the most learned personages in the Empire. Surely he'd know of those even more learned. If he didn't, how could Atreyu expect the Son of Reason to have the answer to his plight? Unfortunately, Atreyu had little choice. He could seek out Ushtu now that he knew she dwelt in Muwamath, but that was far from here. And here he stood. Atreyu had nothing to lose by asking.

'I would ask you a question,' Atreyu said firmly.

Yisipu's eyes returned from the heavens and pierced the young man. ‘What is it that you would ask of me?’

‘I would ask you to tell me why it is that there are no more purple buffalo.’

Yisipu closed his eyes for a moment. Then his eyes opened, and he said slowly: ‘What are the purple buffalo?’

Atreyu’s eyes widened in disbelief. ‘The purple buffalo are the great beasts that roam the Grassy Ocean.’

‘Perhaps they are extinct,’ the fox-headed one said after a moment of thought.

‘They were many when last I hunted with my people.’ Could the purple buffalo have all died, Atreyu wondered. What would happen to his people without the purple buffalo? What would they eat? What would they wear? There was little else in the great plain besides the Greenskins, the purple buffalo, and the long and lush grass.

‘Who are your people?’

The question startled Atreyu out of his depressing wonderings, and he found the fox-headed Thinker studying him.

‘I have never before seen nor heard of man-creatures with olive colored skin so green.’

‘The Greenskins. All Greenskins have skin this color of varying shades.’

‘And who are the Greenskins?’

Atreyu’s eyes flashed with anger. Clearly the Son of Reason was putting him on. It was impossible that a Deep Thinker would not know these things. And Atreyu despised being made a fool of. But he had told his people he would find out what had happened to the purple buffalo. So he would have to play the Deep Thinker’s game.

‘The Greenskins are the plains people that live in the Grassy Ocean.’

Yisipu closed his eyes, and his furry triangular ears twitched. ‘What is the Grassy Ocean?’

In an instant Atreyu’s left hand shot to his bow and his right hand darted into the quiver behind his back. He would not have his people insulted this way! The Deep Thinker clearly meant to say that the Greeenskins and their home mattered little in the large framework of Fantasia. But his people and land did matter.

But perhaps this was a test. That must be it, Atreyu, thought. The Deep Thinkers seemed kind enough before. But that was before they sperated. Perhaps apart they were less benevolant.

Atreyu returned his arms into a fold over his chest. ‘The Grassy Ocean is the long and wide stretch of green plains in which live the Greenskins and the purple buffalo.’

Yisipu closed his eyes once again. But he opened them rather quickly.

‘The purple buffalo do not exist. Neither do the Greenskins. Nor the Grassy Ocean.’ Yisipu’s voice and pressence commanded such authority that Atreyu almost believed him. It was clear, however, that the Deep Thinker truly believed what he said. Atreyu could see that in his eyes. Atreyu could also see fear in the fox eyes.

‘I am a Greenskin, and I exist. I stand before you.’

‘It is reasonable then to belive that the Greenskins have once existed, but none - save you - exist now.’

‘How is that reasonable?’ Atreyu demanded. ‘I was just home some weeks ago and saw it with my own eyes.’

Yisipu said nothing and merely stared back.

‘Are you insisting my land and people have vanished since I’ve left?’

Yisispu’s eyes widened, remembering the terrible sight of the Howling Forest fading from existance before his very eyes.

‘Yes,’ Yisipu finally answered.

Atreyu knew it had to be so. And he was devistated. It seemed absurd that he had been worried about his people’s food source in the purple buffalo gone when the people themselves were gone as well.

Bastian found himself weeping. He hadn’t even known any of the Greenskins but Atreyu. It must be horrible for Atreyu, Bastian thought. Atreyu's name in the native Greenskin tongue meant Son of All, and he was known such amongst the Greenskins because he had been orphaned and raised by his people together. For them to all have vanished must seem like having a hundred parents die. And no-one knew better than Bastian what the death of a parent was like. Bastian felt so badly for Atreyu. He wished he could be there to comfort his friend. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to hug Atreyu.

Atreyu apparently had a tight reign over his emotions, for not a single tear fell.

No, Bastian thought, Atreyu was in shock. It would hit the young man eventually.

‘How do you know this?’ Atreyu asked. Yisipu was the Son of Reason. His knowlege came through reasoning, not by intuition nor vision.

‘I have seen it happen.’

‘Why am I still here if the Greenskins no longer exist?’

‘That I do not know. But it is reasonable to assume that as you were gone from the . . .’

‘Grassy Ocean,’ the Greenskin supplied.

‘As you were not there, that is why you remain. And remain the only one who remembers it.’

‘Is this happening all over Fantasia?’ Atreyu’s heart was beating double time.

‘As we both have experienced this phenomina, it is reasonable to say it could be happening elsewhere,’ Yisipu said with is eyes closed. 'Perhaps everywhere.'

‘Then all Fantasia is in danger! I must go tell- tell . . . her . . .’

‘Yes . . . her . . .’ Yisipu was startled to find he could not remember the Childlike Empress’ name.

‘Thank you,’ Atreyu said, hurridly bowing.

Yisipu bowed his head. ‘Godspeed, my lad.’

Atreyu was out of the room and down the glass-like stairs and out of the tower before Yisipu realized it.

‘Fly Falkor!’ his fox ears heard the young man shout.

‘Whereto, my friend?’ came the reply, ringing like a bronze bell.

‘The Ivory Tower!’

The pair were then a streak of white light heading toward the dawning sun.

Chapter Four: Atreyu's Quest