I couldn't figure out how to do this properly. Three belongs to  genesisw
No plot = an experiment. Call it a fanfic. I had fun with this anyway.

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The black nose of a sleeping creature quivered as enough consciousness was returning for it to pick up the warm, though weakening, scent that the smothered torches throughout the village gave off. Similar to the scent of cinnamon, and thick and hearty like the scent of fresh bread while lightened by a dulling floral fragrance, the smell swept through the twisted vines that had become reaching branches from the ground - joined with other vines to compose the tree-like pillars that rose, and in myths, held up the ever blue sky. ‘Luck’ tied all things and all events together. The fortune of a single vine to sprout from a seed and survive long enough to be joined with another vine - was the result of that one vine’s luck. The vines were joined for the sake of combining what luck they individually possessed, so that they would grow stronger, increasing their chances for survival. As luck gathered, what could be perceived to be a tree was formed. It was by luck that spaces were naturally shaped within these trees, which allowed conscious beings to dwell within them and regard them as their homes.
Within a scene drowned in earthly hues – greens, browns, and reddish colors - the fur, which was white like snow but colored with blue shades in the same way as deeply buried or ancient ice, stood out from the surroundings distinctly, easily perceived as a foreign object that had not evolved alongside the land and what it contained.
Though the feline, which lay curled in a cubby shaped by the vines, had shown evidence of wakefulness with the reaction her nose had given to the expiration of the torches, she did not move to rouse herself from her state of half-sleep. The brown leather that she wore did not blend into the mixture of greens and browns that colored the wood holding her above the dirt floor, but other details were hidden well enough in the color to be missed by a first glance. The other brown tufts of fur that lay nestled about the white creature were easy enough to see. When one of the brown tufts moved, awakening as orange tinted light became stronger, the fur that had cloaked it was lifted away and hung, curling back in the air as it became clear that it was simply the tail of a thin, angular creature that was bare on the rest of its four legged body, roughly textured skin an olive green that was more adapt at blending into the natural colors of the tree, and which could seamlessly disappear into the leaves its agile body could easily reach. As the world warmed from the brief night that intermittently disrupted the prevalence of the bright sun and clear sky, the other tufts of fur unfurled their tails and began to scamper about the interior of the white creature’s home.
Where the vines had taken on the sturdy and dependable qualities of shelves, tiny carvings stood in neat rows along the dimensions of the home, though some potential shelves were left bare. The green creatures, with their tails of brown fluff bobbing and darting, scurried about the carvings as if inviting each inanimate object to wake and play with them in the morning sun. But the carvings, though some were nearly identical to the energetic beasts, remained as they were, declining the invitation as they always did each morning, and so, also following the early custom, the nimble beasts darted off together through the natural gaps in the walls to climb up into the higher parts of the tree where black berries were hidden in shadowed crevices. As hunger rumbled their little tummies, the sun revealed the purple sheen on the skin of the berries that were taken from their hiding places and licked by several tongues in the communal breakfast that began each day.
The berries that rested in a bowl on one of the shelves remained untouched, ready to feed the slumbering creature, should she choose to eat them.
Now the curled feline, who had yet to move, was left alone. In the quiet her mind became clearer but her eyes preferred to remain closed. Eventually a white tail twitched and then moved away from the uncurling body as she rose. She remained sitting with her legs tucked beside her as her eyes opened, revealing an outstanding variance of greens, black pupils, and no trace of white unless a glint of light provided it. These eyes could easily fit into this world, could easily become accustomed to watching and existing in it, but the fur coat and feline characteristics set the creature apart from the only other conscious race that was present here.
As the eyes surveyed their accustomed surroundings, thoughts within a mind filled with clear and faded memories as well as those that existed as empty shells - events kept in her mind that had been experienced and then forgotten - wandered about the community of beings that had brought her into this tree dwelling.
They had discovered her, and unaccustomed to the feeling of surprise and unfamiliarity, had coaxed her into her current dwelling - which could have easily been one of their own – all without words, relying on their own gentle nature. After each being became acquainted with her appearance, they had bidden her with gestures to remain in the dwelling for reasons she had not understood before. Now it was clear that it was part of the nature of these beings. They lived off of routine and repetitive days. They wanted the stranger to be kept in a location where she would be present each day, and not wander into their midst from the forest on chance occasions, which would bring the startling feeling of surprise – and through this they desired the comfort of knowing that the current day would be like the next day, and so on. The one with white fur was identified by her appearance, not with so much a word or an individual name, for none have personal titles here - all were identified by their species - and she was identified by the emotion the sight of her inspired. She was ‘the strong reflection of light’, where the white fur was compared to pure light. It was the feeling of having the sense of sight fill the mind with awe upon seeing something beautiful. But the shape of the creature, her feline characteristics, were too strange and different from the long, boney shapes of the conscious beings for her to be revered as a beauty among them. The emotion was beautiful, but she herself was strange.
But there was no negativity in this culture. No hate or resentment. No discrimination. No need to isolate or destroy her. She was perceived as ‘luck’, an addition that was only viewed in a positive way in which her presence was a welcomed contribution. If they wished to communicate with her, they would approach her and then speak with gestures or the simple verbal language that was rarely used amongst themselves, and which the feline had come to recognize with time. For one with no name, the lack of a title here did not matter, and was in most ways a relief. Other beings who had a perception of self always demanded to have a name. Not only for themselves – to them, each conscious being was obligated to have an individual name which was perceived to be somehow vital for maintaining their individual identity. This white creature, as ageless as ice that had no contact with the world, so deeply buried in time – frustrated them when she was presented as a nameless creature. But here, in this community she had never been pressured to give some substitution and was never made to bear a name of some unsatisfied individual’s creation. She was allowed to be identified by her existence alone, but for the purpose of recording what transpired at this time, she will be referred to as Three.
And this Three was currently living in a tree, making carvings that provided a small taste of adventure for her neighbors who might frequent her home to view some new creation, a visit made into a scandalous thrill as it repeatedly went against their proper nature to avoid the feeling of surprise. The elder members of the community were the most adventurous because they had lived the longest, and had so experienced and witnessed the most change that allowed them to tolerate surprise and alteration more easily than the younger members. As the native race was not a very fertile one, infants or children were scarce, there being at most three or four of them at a time, and even then their ages would be distanced by years – and as they did not live exceedingly long lives, any amount of time was significant. The rule, which Three observed, and which dictated who her sometimes companions might be, was that the young were shy and the old were merely quiet, and like her, took pleasure in allowing their gaze to wander, taking in their world as their time there drew to an end.
The natives’ existence and survival were perplexing and could only be made sense of with measurements of luck – as with the feeble vines that grew into gargantuan towers. Only half of the couples appeared to be able to produce offspring during their lives, which should have condemned them to a thinning population that would result in extinction – but somehow, the low birthrate was a blessing. It allowed resources to remain abundant, and seemingly, in stories of the past which were archived in the minds of the elders and passed down to the young orally, whenever their numbers became too weak, a sudden flush of fertility would cause them to multiply rapidly. One great hero was a nameless female who gave birth to six offspring in her life – a feat unimaginable for creatures who were exceedingly lucky to produce a single child. Yes, their world ran on luck, and for their sake, the green eyes that glistened like emeralds but remained as natural as leaves, scanning the various vine-trees and the olive and blue skinned occupants emerging from them, seeing lives come and go as there became less of them, hoped that their luck may never run out. Peaceful lives that were not spoiled and could have left much to be desired and yet were fully content, deserved to exist somewhere…and there was no reason why that somewhere could not be right here. …It was as if some unseen force were protecting this place and nurturing it like it was a precious infant.
The feeling humored her, slightly, when she reflected on their great fortune and reliance on natural events, that they were a godless race and gave thanks to no distinct idol. They thanked one another with their gentle gestures - apparent in every movement their bodies made - and unceasingly emanated happiness which was as bright and as pure as the voices of any spiritual choir that had ever sung praise to a loving deity while truly filled with the fire of their adoration and devotion.
It was beautiful. Dark lashes blinked but did not look away from the morning scene through the gaps in the vines as a bushy-tailed creature hopped onto a white arm and scampered up to an unoccupied shoulder. When the little creature perched there, content to watch the community with her, Three glanced down at it with a soft and faintly humored smile, her own soul lightening with the peace she observed when her eyes peered through the spaces between the vines that kept her separated from the world she viewed. Though, in the back of her mind, a kind of confusion lingered, as it always had – finding what lay before the green eyes to be an impossibility – where every law of society and nature was being so perversely mocked. It was the combination of emotions that kept her eyes watchful.