Deepwood Weald tell me when it's over

AW — hoping for forneskja wolves in particular

trees thin, spindly like bones caught the shadows attention, now. tall, standing upright far ways above any creature that trotted beneath them. not even the nimblest creature could climb these, he thought as he trudged across the forest floor. very little light dappled through the tangled branches, but what fell through was bright, white. telling of midday.

rökkur moved his head slowly as he surveyed the woods, scarlet eyes glancing from tree to tree. ears twitching at the sound of a vole escaping the undergrowth when a twig broke under dark paws. ferns like blood, red and green underfoot. fog that spreads in each direction. but he trusts his senses, his instincts. sharpened and careful.

he may not know if he was alone just yet, but he knew that his paws were firm on the ground. bound to the earth. weariness did not know him, for he had been a kappi, afraid of nothing. so rökkur continued, cold air stinging his nose.