The Bracken Woods Where Shadows Lie

There were easier paths to tread, but he didn't want easier. 

A single digit stroked the curved exterior of the razor-sharp thorns that lined the endless brambles. How thoroughly the plants protected themselves, greedily sequestering their life's essence behind an impressive array of weapons. Beautiful, in their own way.

Shroud tilted his obsidian head to one side, studying the specimens before him. The rest of his figure was recumbent on the cold forest floor, white tail tip flicking gently against a lanky steel-blue haunch. For all intents and purposes, the young man appeared in repose, or perhaps meditative, barely visible in the oppressive darkness of the forest.

He'd been slowly working his way through the countless miles of dense undergrowth since arriving from the northern wastes. "Teekon" - that's what his mother had called these lands. Lands of promise and hope, where wolves could strike out in search of... whatever they sought. Could he find what he was seeking?

Transfixed by the local flora, he ran the pad of the stroking paw against the tip of a thorn, observing the way it cut the skin, allowing a single drop of blood to trickle down. Fascinating. Soft lavender eyes remained focused on the ruby droplet, a testament to his own still flickering life flame. A flame, he knew, risked being snuffed out all too soon, but not if he could help it.