Haunted Wood feredir

The stag’s head reared upward with the shift in wind. His dark eyes scanned the fold of evergreen in search of where the predator was hiding. The scent of wolf was unmistakable; far too many times had the prince been forced to defend his herd from their cruel fangs. Rohan was not fond of the fanged creatures’ tendencies. They were crass animals who favored the taste of blood over reason. The prince was keen to keep himself far from their reach if he could afford such distance. The hairs along his neck rose upward with the uncertainty of where the target had stopped. The prince swung his skull in search of the wolf. It was not until he had shifted his weight and turned his crown to the north that he caught the glimpse of shimmering ivory against the green backdrop.
 
The russet figure backed himself up to protect his rear from attack, using the looming tree as protection from whatever rested beyond. The jagged tines of his antlers loomed above his brow threateningly. Rohan did not cease his watchful stare into the wilderness; he knew the wolf was there and it would show itself in time. Could those devious monsters truly turn their eye to the promise of fresh blood?