Hushed Willows Mythic

He had discovered her in the mire, and had been the only thing to keep her from losing herself. It was a strange thing this relationship — Tavi did not think to call it that, but the two of them had some sort of understanding, and Arkham was keen to rescue her, so she did not doubt his intentions. She needed him, and would follow wherever he led. As she passed between the willow trees that bordered his home, Tavi found herself void of thought entirely. Her body was tired, her heart in pieces despite her insistence to ignore the pain of it, and it took all of her energy to keep herself together as they moved side-by-side.

The trees hid them well. There was a grayness to the world now as she slipped about in the night-time, a bare illumination from the moon, and it caught upon the tendrils of many willow branches, silvering them. As Tavi passed beneath another mane of growth, she felt them touch upon her rounded sides and catch in the fur of her spine; it was a strange feeling, but not unnerving as she thought it might be. Then Arkham spoke — somber in among the shadow — and she felt a tired smile tug at her face. Beautiful, she shares with him, I've been this way before but.. I'd never come up this close.

It was very different from the grotto. The trees provided a sense of shelter which Tavi was in desperate need of, and there was no obvious threat — unless Arkham himself was the threat she thought suddenly, her ears fanning to either side of her round face as a sign of apprehension. Tavi quickly dismissed that thought as a figment of her tired mind, and then exhaled a long, slow, deep breath.