Raven's Watch ains

The forest on the northern edge of the mountain chain loomed like a sleeping giant, its twisted limbs clawing at the darkening sky. The air was thick with an unsettling chill, an omen of the winter creeping in, curling around the edges of autumn like smoke from a dying fire. Fog rolled in, a spectral tide that swallowed the underbrush, twisting the familiar into the uncanny, the trees standing sentinel like ancient sentinels, their gnarled bark resembling the veins of some great, slumbering beast.

Night settled in with an oppressive weight, the moon shrouded by the shifting clouds, casting the world in shades of gray and black. The ravens called from their hidden perches, their voices echoing through the stillness—a sound that clung to the air like the taste of rust, hinting at secrets buried beneath the damp earth. Each caw felt like a warning, a plea to turn back before the shadows deepened further, but curiosity, that insatiable itch, beckoned one deeper into the heart of the forest.

Edith stood at the edge of the forest, her heart pounding with a mix of exhilaration and trepidation. The cool air tugged at her fur, ruffling it like an unseen hand, a reminder that she was no longer among that which was familiar, no longer beholden to the established laws of her family; this was what scared her the most, yet she did not turn back.

This was a world alive with possibility, its dark corners holding both peril and promise.