Deepwood Weald mother laid her elbows on the bed

the thick woodland kept winter's icy fingers at bay, but so too did it keep the light away. antha was enchanted by the misty, ethereal cast to the forest, but knew in her heart that it would not make a suitable home. still, it held promise as a sacred place; a place of power.
the autumnal witch weaved between spindly trees with an easy grace, marveling at each new sight. it seemed she had found a glittering pale purgatory of sorts, a shielded bubble from the outside world. here, it was only endless forest and a pale murk in the distance.