October 11, 2020, 09:29 PM
@Rohesia
He had heard the voice of the Deorwine lift from this place, yet only now did he seek them, in this forest that stood as a haunting reminder of the charcoaled lands they left behind. Once verdant leaves lay patchworked on the ground, some settled, some drifting, like the embers of the High Elk's judgment, reaching out to touch them even here, an omen beyond what a wolf stained in black or white could ever be. The leaves crackled under paw with an ambient whisper much like the warnings he had tasted within the warmer gales. Now summer turned to fall, and their land lay far behind them like a barren judgment against their shrouded sins.
Glaedwine had thought of leaving them, but he had returned; by night and day, conviction compelled him. He did not think himself a prophet, just a watcher of the times, with an armoured shell that hid the heart that only prayed his kinsmen would see that their undoing was their own. He did not wish to be here, but still he walked along the outer rim of this promised land in the patterns of familiarity he had once known around Kingslend.
And anyone within the shadowed woods would hear the familiar sound return, of dragging antlers and a monster's crawl.
He had heard the voice of the Deorwine lift from this place, yet only now did he seek them, in this forest that stood as a haunting reminder of the charcoaled lands they left behind. Once verdant leaves lay patchworked on the ground, some settled, some drifting, like the embers of the High Elk's judgment, reaching out to touch them even here, an omen beyond what a wolf stained in black or white could ever be. The leaves crackled under paw with an ambient whisper much like the warnings he had tasted within the warmer gales. Now summer turned to fall, and their land lay far behind them like a barren judgment against their shrouded sins.
Glaedwine had thought of leaving them, but he had returned; by night and day, conviction compelled him. He did not think himself a prophet, just a watcher of the times, with an armoured shell that hid the heart that only prayed his kinsmen would see that their undoing was their own. He did not wish to be here, but still he walked along the outer rim of this promised land in the patterns of familiarity he had once known around Kingslend.
And anyone within the shadowed woods would hear the familiar sound return, of dragging antlers and a monster's crawl.
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Messages In This Thread
just look at that shopkeeper, peddling his wares - by Glædwine - October 11, 2020, 09:29 PM
RE: just look at that shopkeeper, peddling his wares - by Rohesia - October 12, 2020, 06:42 PM