Deepwood Weald are you still there inside my chest?

@Damien @Nocturnal - Pledge Thread!

It was dark and Marruz was yet darker, sifting through the skeletal grove like a wraith within the eery drapery of the Weald's characteristic mist. His single dipped paw, upon which a shaft of faded grey clung to his own distaste, bobbed in the gloaming like a hare upon the roots. Though both eyes perused the carpeted foliage ahead, only that of cool indigo was visible in the night; narrowed and considerably intent. He moved swiftly but with fluidity - a learned stride borne only of his nimble inheritance. He never lacked a sense of purpose, that Marruz. At least, not anymore. Had there been a time that marked otherwise?

He was travelling by dint of optimal comfort tonight. Truly, there was adrenaline pulsating throughout his body; spiking with every glance at the towering trunks, stabbed at the crown with needle-thin limbs and just enough space to watch that Goddess, the moon. The fog seemed to blanket him in a mother's embrace as he slithered along, panther-like despite his meager brawn. Yes, this was where Marruz wanted to be. Finally.

This was the heart, it seemed. Drained long ago of the blood, but no less desperate in its beating. Marruz could feel it in his bones; in the way his body interacted almost instinctually with the land. He was becoming a vein, detached from the arteries. And the more his paws thrummed against the earth - like raindrops on the leather skin of a drum - the more he heard his own heart beating again.