Blackfoot Forest Is it love if I take you, or is it love if I set you free

The pale moon and stars that accompanied it cowered behind a dense layer of cloud, last beams of golden sunlight streaking down in rays before vanishing beyond the horizon. Now upon the painted sky lay a deep, midnight blue that faded into a glowing vermillion - and the land laying underneath remained various dark shades of grey, as though all was captured in an old photograph partially burned and blackened. The branches of trees creaked and groaned in the wind, each sudden snap causing the scatter of birds. 

It was in this darkness that the Reaper prowled, drifting and weaving between those towering trees with twisted, leafless branches. His elegant movements made not a sound, silent as he was trained to be - a deadly snake in search of a victim to taunt into his jaws. The svelte, starborn youth lived for the shadows and a shadow he had become, each pierce of his icy gaze like a venemous wisp that dripped from the point of a snake's sharpened fang. So intimidating was his stare, so void of emotion and yet filled with masked desires, dreams of blood and longing to harm yet another innocent soul.

This place, he cared naught for it but found himself traipsing within, lithe figure sliding in and out of the elongated figures stretched upon the ground as a shadow casted by the light of the moon. The breeze was cool against his face, a rushing of air bringing the gift of a scent to Aries' nostrils. The quirk of his lips heralded the curiousity of the young man, though he was sure to keep this well masked when he began to trail the scent to its source, black nose tipped downward.