Haunted Wood deep woods hide saints of another kind

Dark clouds loomed overhead, creating a darkened earth beneath them. The wind whispered through the trees with voices of spirits tailing on the ends. Amid the fallen leaves and weathered bark was a creature who appeared not to belong to such a place. The delicate frame of his body would leave one wondering how he had come upon the wilderness where he stood.

Cavendish stepped daintily through the leaves, casting his pale gaze from side to side in a sweeping manner. His features were tight but pleasant. The curve of his frame seemed to accent the softness of him, adding a supernatural air to his physical being. More a ghost than anything corporeal. He moved through the fall environment without care and without wariness.