Deepwood Weald Against you, a weak defense

Tales of horror shows and terrifying nightmares came to birth here as a source of inspiration or even truth for the spindly trees that painted the landscape, offered a fearsome sight to the naked eye. Around afternoon when the sun was at its lowest point, it allowed the shades of the trees to turn into grasping, bone-like fingers and grasping everything alive and kicking. An eerie, silverlined fog made it a picture all too perfect for haunted tales around a nice campfire. And yet the curious, the brave and the stupid all ventured here; amidst them Mees was no different.

Like a stalking feline Mees walked across the shady trees while stampeding across the blood-stained ferns. There was a strange comfort in solitude and only the forest-like creatures in the background offered company in these grim-like woods. He wasn't sure what took him here, so far away from the wolf civilization. There were old scents here, telling a tale that he wasn't the first and neither the last to venture beyond the boundaries of everything that was known. And yet, a guffing suprise overtook him and the moment when a strange odour caused his nostrils to flare. No longer was he the sole wanderer of this place. Edging curiously closer to the other, Mees wanted to know if he was dethroned as king of solitude and solace; who else passed through here and why?