King Elk Forest the prisoner's throne

sea glass gaze follows her voice to rest upon the spectre colored woman; as pale as the moon as he was dark as the starless, moonless night. the hellhound's weight shifts, confidence allowing him to drop the slight prickle of his hackles.

relief follows that she is not a voice he'd been trying to hard to quiet these past few months ( with no success ).

beyond these wilds, beyond this world. i have been many places.

ingram does not add that he'd been born in these wilds: his reputation tended to proceed him ... though he strayed far enough from the places he'd once haunted like a bad omen that it might not have reached here.