You are walking in the woods, and come upon a tree. It's a grand oak, its branches sprawling over the emerald grass. Hanging around it, on an old, weathered rope, its a mirror, shiney and bright. Inside, a man stares back at you. You recognize his type from the storybook you'd hear as a kid, warning about the faes. This one has fiery-red hair, sharp pupils, long ears with some nicks in them, palms pressed against the mirror. They seem to be...trapped?