Stone Circle ᚨᚱᛁᛗᛁᛚᛁ

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ᚦ — the moon is high, but the light is low. wind moves through the meadow, soft across the tops of the flowers, brushing cold fingers through the tall grass.
draugr walks the circle. weaving in and out of the pillars, sides brushing against. to cover up fading pack scent with his own. carrion, blood dried into fur, sunbaked into skin. wildflowers smothered into fur.
the rustle of brush draws him from the center, where eyes ferocious as the sun are wielded. searching, seeking. draugr growls; it is a rolling noise, that spreads from one point to the next.
a king vocally protecting what is his war front.