Shadewood Nahlot

Movement. Rustling. Uneasiness.

Those were Shadewood's only signs that a wolf was passing through. From time to time, the gleam of bone would flash in the darkness, as the creature walks past the few light beams that could reach the woodland floor. Nothing more. 

The young wolf walked in the dark, surrounded by a heavy silence. Silence is good. It allows one to listen, Girid had said.
It was easier when she was near. Vokun gulped, trying to distract himself from the sounds of his own body: his paws hitting the soft cold earth, his heart beating, his breathing, his stomach growling.

These sounds grew louder by the minute. To the point of madness. This was his first challenge: composure. A quality the druids of the Circle valued most. One he was expected to hone.

After all, he had been ordained a Druid of the Circle under the previous full moon.
But for all the honor that rank would bring, Vokun was still a novice in his craft. And he had never been so far away from the Witcher's Nest as he was now. For the first time, he didn't know where he was. He only knew that he had to swallow his fears and keep going.

*gulp*

More noise.


 So loud. So loud...