Deepwood Weald Cry

She continued along the Weald's perimiter, never ceasing in her calls. A shadow from within materialized, at first appearing to be nothing more than a figment of her imagination. But as it came nearer and nearer, the Wilding could make out its features more clearly: A man of average proportions cast in dark shades with a build that was nonetheless impressive, carrying himself on pillar-like legs.

Beast.

Beast, Beast, Beast! She bounded towards him, whining ecstatically all the while. Her tail waved uncontrollably like a banner in a storm as she was overcome with the bliss of relief. Reunited at last, she no longer had to face the world alone, no longer had to feel fractured... Until she peered into his forest green eyes that matched her own, that were not the piercing icy pools she knew and loved. She felt herself shatter all over again.

This was not her Beast.

And if not him, this must have been a stranger; perhaps a manifestation of her desperate mind after all, another trick by the Weald to lead travelers astray. Except he looked and smelled all-too real, and it frightened the Wilding. She was far too close to this unknown, this foreign thing she didn't understand and thus could not predict.

A dangerous thing.

Skidding to a halt upon her realization, she scampered back, ears flat and body low to the ground. She did not flee due to their close proximity, fearing he would give chase. So she stood there, saucer-eyed and with a pounding, broken heart as she dreadfully awaited what the shadow would do.